Wingless
by xascasfellx
Summary: No matter how hard he tries, or doesn't, Castiel can't find it in him to forgive himself.


Title: Wingless

Author: xascasfellx

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Dean/Castiel

Spoilers: 8x23

Word Count: 39, 378

Warning: Drug use, alcoholism, homophobic slander, and mention of torture

He couldn't believe it. He was human. He had fallen. All his brothers and sisters had fallen. And it was all because of him. It was all Castiel's fault that there were no longer angels. Metatron had tricked him. Those four words stayed in his head for the three hours that he sat on the dew covered ground watching the sky.

For the first hour he had counted over one thousand Angels falling. There were too many he couldn't keep up, so instead decided to just sit without anything other than _Metatron tricked me_ going through his head.

The second hour was worse. He could hear the crashes from miles away. Thankfully, none of his brothers or sisters had landed anywhere near him. But now, the Graces were falling. To his newly sensitive ears they were excruciatingly loud. Everywhere on Earth now, there would be miracles happening wherever the Graces touched down.

He only prayed that no one would get hit with one.

_Metatron had tricked me. _

The third hour was quiet. Besides the rustle of leaves and the faint sound of the wind there was no noises in the air. Which left him with a disturbing thought. _Where am I? _Metatron didn't say where he would send him after ripping out his own Grace. So this location was unknown to him—but most importantly to the Winchesters.

Castiel thought about them. He thought about Dean. He would be angry with him. He would scream at him. _I told you so Castiel! You never fucking listen to me! Why do you always go against what I say!? _Would Dean be happy that Castiel fell? Would he treat him differently?

Cas laid his body closer to the ground, hugging his knees close to his chest. The wind began to pick up making small bumps form against his exposed skin. The trenchcoat didn't do anything to help against the new found cold Cas was feeling.

Before everything happened Naomi had said that Metatron was lying. He wondered why he hadn't listened to her before. He could have avoided this. But he didn't. He never did listen. That was always his problem.

He thought about Sam. She had said that if Sam would complete the trials he would die. He wasn't an Angel now, so he wouldn't have felt Hell's gates being closed; did they close them? Is Sam dead? If Sam was gone there would be no way for Castiel to bring him back again. He couldn't bring Dean's brother back. Dean would be dead as well.

_Guilt. _

_Noun_

_The fact of having committed a specified or implied offense or crime._

The human word he was looking for was Guilt. Nothing Castiel could do would ever make this right. He couldn't give his brothers and sister back their Graces'. He couldn't give them their wings back. Heaven was lost to them all now.

_Metatron tricked me. _

The concept of being human wasn't foreign to him. There had been times when he had fallen, not to this extent, and had to more or less behave as humans do, but nothing he had experienced in the past could ever come close to what he was feeling at this moment.

Sensation after sensation rushed around in him to where if he were standing he would have been knocked off his feet completely. His emotions where everywhere. He couldn't even point out exactly what he was feeling.

_Metatron tricked me._

The fourth hour he stayed in that patch of grass was painful. The wind had picked up, the temperature dropped drastically, and it began to pour the rain in little balls that felt like knives piercing his skin. Cold. He was cold. No, he was freezing. It felt as though his body was becoming ice. He knew that humans couldn't get too cold. They could freeze to death if that happened.

Hunger. He knew hunger. When he was affected by Famine he had craved red meat to the point where he would die than not have it. But this hunger was different. He knew that without food a human body would eventually die. This hunger wasn't brought on by something magical. It was real. It was happening to him now because—_I'm human._

Exhaustion. It poured over him more than the rain was doing at that point. He couldn't keep his eyes open for more than a second without it starting to hurt. He knew humans had to sleep. He knew that without sleep their bodies would eventually shut down, and they would die.

_There are so many ways humans can die. _

After lying on the ground for another thirty minutes, Castiel finally made his vessel—body—stand. It was a chore, but he finally managed to stand upright without wobbling. The trenchcoat hung to his body in a wad of wed fabric making it very unpleasant to walk, but he did anyway.

There was only one place he wanted to be. Only one play he wanted go. Only one family he wanted to see.

_Winchesters._

He needed to get back to Dean and Sam. He needed to apologize. He needed to see if Sam was alive. He needed to see if Dean—blamed him.

The road he found a few yards away from his patch of green was deserted. There were no cars neither coming nor going. So he walked. There was no way of telling where he had landed or which way he should even be headed, but somewhere was better than out in this misery.

So far, after a few miles headed East, there was no signs of any Fallen Angels, or any Grace's. The rain didn't let up one bit. In fact, the wind increased, the temperature dropped, and the night only became darker.

Castiel felt helpless and lost. _Dean. Sam. _They kept him going. He needed to get back to them. They would know what to do. Together they could figure out their next move. _Except there isn't one. There's no hope. _

A few more miles down the same road he was headed, Castiel's body just dropped to the cement ground in a hard thud. His stomach tore itself into knots like it was trying to come out of him. His body hurled itself forward and a mouthful of liquids came pouring out onto the ground. The taste was revolting. The feeling even more so. Still, his body jerked forward three more times, but nothing else came out.

After the third Cas stood even more tired than he started and in even more pain than he noticed.

Still he continued down the road.

After thirty minutes a large car drove past, splashing the water of a puddle onto him. He was drenched now. After five hours of staying in the cold Castiel could no longer feel his feet or his hands. The tip of his nose was a lost cause and he's pretty sure his ears are solid as well.

The jeep that had passed him came to a sudden halt and began to back up till it was beside Castiel. The blackened windows rolled down to revile an older woman staring at him in complete horror. Not knowing what to do, Castiel walked over to the jeep in hopes to know where he was at least.

"There's a damn twister on the way son, you shouldn't be out here." She called in a thick accent, Castiel thought he recognized as somewhere from the South.

"Could you please tell me where I am?" His voice was hoarse being the first time he used it now that the vessel was in fact his body.

"You're in West Plains hon. Are you okay?" Missouri. He was just one state over. Out of everywhere in the world Metatron could have tossed him he was still closer to his boys than he could have been. "Hon, you okay? Do you need some help?"

"I need to get to Kansas." The wind was picking up even more by then, causing both parties to have to yell to be heard over it.

"Can't get you there tonight darling. Here hop in, I can offer you a place to stay till morning." Cas nodded and entered the jeep. A breath escaped his lips when he felt the rush of warm air hit his skin. "You look like you've been through the ringer." She said sympathetically. He didn't understand what she meant by that so he just stayed silent. The car began to drive the way Castiel was headed, making much better time that he could have on foot. "I'm Nelda by the way hon. You got a name you go by?"

"Castiel." He answered, inching closer to the vents that were letting out the warm air.

"That's an unusual name. I like it." Her smile was nice, welcoming. "Now, in this weather, and this time of night, I don't think you will be getting a bus to Kansas, or anywhere else for that matter, till morning, depending on how long this storm continues, maybe longer. So how's 'bout we go back to my place, I make you a warm bowl of soup, then you can head to bed. We'll work out the details tomorrow. Sound good?" Anything edible sounded good to Castiel. The hunger was overpowering him. Silently he prayed his body didn't go through that unpleasant experience that had happened earlier.

"That would be pleasant." He said.

"Now, I hope you don't mind my asking, but what were you doing out there all alone in this weather? Are you lost?" The memory of Dean telling him that humans don't liked to be told about demons, Angel's, or anything supernatural ran through his head. Nelda was being very kind to him and helping him out more than anyone had in a long time, and Castiel didn't want to 'scare' her off by telling her what was truly happening. But at the same time it felt uncomfortable to lie to her, another thing Dean had told him to do in situations like this, especially since she was doing all this for him.

"Yes. I am." It wasn't the whole truth, but it seemed to be enough for her.

"Well don't you worry darling, soon enough you will be back with your family. I guess I should mention mine, got two little rugratz at home, seven and nine, hope they won't bother you too much, if so just tell me or Hank, my husband, I think you'd like him, he's a big teddy bear, anyway, you tell one of us and we'll just take care of them. Oh, look, we're here. I hope it's not too small for you. It may not look like much, but its sure is welcoming."

"It's lovely." And it was. Form the outside Castiel could see the blue house had two stories, and a large front porch with a white swing attached. To the right of the porch stood two apple trees and a garden of mixed greens and splashes of vibrate colors; yellows, purples, red, pink—_flowers_, he thought. To the right sat a few children toys, soaked from the rain. In the driveway sat a dark blue mustang. Instantly Castiel thought of Dean. He would have liked to see that car. His chest ached whenever he thought of the Winchesters. Hopefully the storm would end soon so he could get home to them.

_They need to know I am sorry._

Together, Nelda and Castiel ran towards the porch in hopes to not get any more soaked then they already were. It didn't really work. If at all possible, the rain and wind picked up again. When they walked into the house Castiel was dazed by the overwhelming stimuli that followed. He could smell something that reminded him of Dean's favorite apple pie with a mix of something that reminded him of the way Bobby's old house used to smell. Book. The back of the living room was lined with two enormous bookshelves, both crammed packed with old books. That must be the smell.

The layout wasn't like the motel rooms he'd grown used to with the Winchesters. There was a small flat screen TV in the corner, two brown couches facing it with assorted blankets and pillows on top, and a small coffee table that was filled with books, an ashtray, and more children toys. On the walls, which were covered in dust the way he remembered Bobby's had been, held picture frames of Nelda, two children and an older man who must have been Hank. Some were just the kids, other were just of Nelda and Hank. Also mixed in amongst the pictures were some other people Castiel didn't know, most likely friends and family. It was strange. There were very few pictures, and none personal, on the walls at the motels they stayed in and Bobby didn't have any at his house.

They rounded the corner into a hallway with two doors, one was slightly ajar, lights off, and the other closed. Nelda came to a stop at the door that was open.

"This is the bathroom. I'm just going to assume that your coat there isn't the most comfortable thing in the world and you're freezing your behind off. So, you go on and get into the shower and I'll leave some of Hanks clothes outside of the door that you can borrow. And when you're done, that room right there," she pointed to the only other door in the hallway. "Is going to be your room. There is extra blankets in the closet if you need them. You can just leave your clothes in the bathroom when you're done, I'll get them in the morning so they are ready for you. Anything else you need my and Hank's room is just up the stairs and to the right. Oh, I almost forgot, I'll leave your soup on the kitchen table for when you get out of the shower. I guess you're all set." She began to make her way back out of the hall and into the living room. Castiel didn't even have time to thank her before she was humming away in what was probably the kitchen making soup.

The whole night had Castiel completely overwhelmed; it took him a few minutes to make himself go into the bathroom and close the door. To say taking off the soaked coat felt good was an understatement. It was heavy, cold, and just rubbed him in ways that normally didn't feel irritating. Jimmy's suit pants, too, began to rub him in ways they hadn't before and was relieved when he got them off. The shirt and tie were easily discarded to the hamper beside the toilet.

The water was turned all the way on hot when he entered the shower. It burned his skin to a painful sizzle but he made no moves to turn it down. The rain and dirt was quickly washed away, but one thing stayed behind. His guilt.

_Guilt. Verb_

_Make (someone) feel guilty, esp. in order to induce them to do something._

How could he even let himself take a shower in someone's home, someone who has agreed to help him, knowing little about what he had just committed hours prior? He was given the luxury of bathing, eating, and sleeping in a nice welcoming, warm household while his brothers and sisters were outside fighting to be human. Most of them don't know anything about the human world. They don't know what's it's like to be hungry and what happens when you don't eat. They are probably cold, scared, angry at him for what's happened, but most of all they are confused. Where is their Father when all of this is happening? Castiel asked himself that same thing over and over again in the past five hours, no the past few years. Where is God when everything is turning to this? Where is he when his children need him the most? Where is he when Castiel screamed to the Heavens seconds after falling? Where is he?

_Nowhere. He's gone._

Castiel washed his hair and body with what was provided to him and after stood under the beating rays just staring at the wall until the water ran cold. Most of his family will perish because of this. Most of his family will not live through being humans because they simply don't know how. They won't be as lucky to have someone like Sam and Dean, if they will even let Castiel come back to them, to help them learn how to do things. After all these years of just simply observing humanity he will admit there is so much he still doesn't know how to do. There is still so much he doesn't understand. After just watching these creatures that God loved so much and wishing that he could join them somehow, he's finally here. He is one of them. And he wants nothing more than to not be. It'd be one thing if it were just him suffering and learning how to deal with the hardships of the human life on his own, but to drag his family into it with him; the pain is just too much for his body to handle.

Mixed in with the cold running water, tears begin run down his cheek.

Castiel stepped out of the tub and wrapped himself in one of the towels that was lying on the sink. He'd seen Dean do it this way before and it seemed to work so why not? As promised Hanks clothes were sitting just outside the door. She had left him a pair of sweatpants, a plain black tee-shirt, a pair of underwear, and a pair of worn down jeans, most likely for when he woke up tomorrow. Quickly, he dressed in the clothes and made his way into the kitchen. It smelt strongly of food; he couldn't pinpoint anything he recognized but he knew it was appetizing when his stomach started to rumble with every inhale of breath. Nelda was sitting at the circular table eating some form of soup in a yellow ceramic bowl. Beside her sat another one, steaming hot.

Castiel sat down beside her and looked into the soup. It was a yellowish color and seemed to have floating chucks mixed in with the liquid. His stomach wasn't going to argue whether or not he would enjoy the taste.

"It's chicken noodle. Sorry, haven't been shoppin' in a few days so don't have much else." Nelda smiled shyly up at him.

"It's fine. Thank you, for all of this." She only brushed him off with another smile and a slight shrug and began to sip at her own soup.

"Now, let me ask you," He took the spoon full of the broth and placed it in his mouth. It burned his tongue slightly but it was enjoyable. The taste wasn't bad either. His stomach seemed to be content with having something in it after all. "What are you doing in West Plains? I know a lost soul when I see one, what's really going on?" She asked between bites of her own dinner.

How could he possibly answer the question? Dean wouldn't have approved if he told her about the falling of his family. Now that he looked at it from the perspective of a human he didn't like the story either.

"I just got lost on the way home, on the way back to my friends, Dean and Sam, I just lost control for a minute and, I wasn't paying attention—I just, need to get home so I can apologize to them—if they even want to see me that is—" He never understood before how humans could just start staying things they didn't want others to know and not have the ability to stop themselves, until now. He could hear himself telling this stranger what he was feeling on the inside, but somehow was unable to stop himself from telling her. Nelda seemed to understand. She lowered her spoon and shook her head, eyes serious. "I'm not sure, I can forgive myself, so I don't seem to understand why they would."

"Castiel, I'm sure, no matter what you did, no matter how bad things got, there is always forgiveness. But darling, that all starts with yourself. You're right. How can you expect others to forgive you if you can't forgive yourself? Just start off small hon. You'll see, things will get better." She whispered, before standing to take her bowl to the sink to rinse out. She turned to him once more and placed a hand on his shoulder before closing her eyes. "_'The truth is, unless you let go, unless you forgive yourself, unless you forgive the situation, unless you realize that the situation is over, you cannot move forward._'" She opened her eyes and smiled down at him. "One of the many quotes that helped me get through my hard times. It's in the past sweetie. It's time to move on." She squeezed his shoulder slightly before making her way up the stairs.

Castiel didn't know what to do after that. The soup was forgotten in its bowl. Suddenly he wasn't hungry anymore. How could he forgive himself for what he did to his Brothers and Sister? How could he forgive himself for what he did to Heaven? Shaking his head, Castiel took his dish over to the sink and rinsed it out the way he'd seen Nelda do. From the small clock on the wall it was said to be 3:23 in the morning. The concept of time was still new, being that it wasn't that important in Heaven, but he knew it was really late at night, or early in the morning perhaps, and his body was exhausted. His eyes were heavy and it took too much energy to walk down the hall towards his spare bedroom. The room was small, just a full bed, and he only knew that because that was all Dean and Sam would get when checking into the motel rooms, covered in a thick blue blanket and two pillows at the head. There was a lamp on the nightstand beside it and a closet to the right of that.

Castiel didn't even turn the lamp on when he walked into the room and closed the door. After a moment his eyes adjusted to the darkness letting him see, not much, but enough. He sat solemnly at the edge of the bed and looked around. He couldn't help but feel scared. It wasn't sleep that scared him exactly; it was what happened when one fell asleep. He'd seen the way Dean was when he got out of Hell. How he was after Purgatory. How he still in, was, just a few days ago in fact. He knew how Sam was when he broke the wall. They were so bad; he couldn't even let himself fall asleep for fear of seeing what was beyond sleep. Nightmares. Jimmy would have occasionally thrown flashes of images at Castiel during moments when he was on Earth. They were the equivalent of his soul's dreams, but mostly when they did happen, it was nightmares. There were flashes of Amelia and Claire, possessed or dead. Even when he was a celestial being they sometimes scared him. Nightmares were what kept Castiel awake.

He curled up underneath the blanket, pulling it high over his head, tucking his knees close to his chest the way he had after he had fallen. The space under the blanket was warm and secure. His eyes became even more heavy with the need to sleep it was harder to stay awake.

He thought of Dean again, and Sam. He thought of the gates to Hell. He wondered if they really had closed them off forever. With Heaven the way it is now, Angeless, it would be nice to not have Hell running around on Earth too.

That gave Castiel a skin shuttering thought. If one of his brothers or sister were to get possessed by a demon the knowledge they would then possess would be end of the world bad. That gave him another thought, one not so bad as the others. He would like to get an anti-possession tattoo like Sam and Dean had. That meant he'd have to get back to them first.

Closer now. Deeper and deeper he fell into the trance like state till his eyes closed tightly and he began to snore gently.

….

_Angel's_

_Falling_

_Metatron_

_Dean_

_Sam_

_Crowley_

_Naomi_

_Falling_

_Falling_

_Falling_

_Humans_

_We are all humans now_

_Most of us will die_

_I need to get back to Sam and Dean_

_I need my family_

_Winchesters, I need them_

_Death_

_Human_

_I am human_

_I did this_

_I made the Angel's fall_

_Guilt Synonyms_

_fault - blame - sin - crime - guiltiness – culpability_

_Sin_

_I have sinned _

_God, where is he?_

_Does he care his children fell?_

_Does he care we have screamed for him?_

_We've prayed_

_Where is he?_

_He doesn't care_

_Humans_

_We are just humans now_

_It's all my fault_

_All_

_My_

_Fault_

….

Castiel heard himself screaming before he knew he was awake. The lights were still off in the little room, the only source of light came from the window next to the bed. From the looks of it, it was probably late afternoon. Even with the urge to get back to the Winchesters heavy in his heart Castiel didn't make a move to get out of bed. The blanket was still over his head, warm, safe. He tucked his knees closer to his chest and buried his face into them. The tears wouldn't stop coming. And he just let them fall. Just like he had.

Nightmares. He didn't want to sleep for fear of reliving what he had caused. Yes he was still exhausted, but there was no way he was going to fall back asleep. He couldn't see them anymore. He couldn't watch what he caused. They always told him to take responsibility for his action, but this time, he just wanted to bury them deep down where he would never have to think about it again. He just couldn't anymore. The pain and self-loathing he felt now was worse than the day before.

Castiel took a deep breath and removed himself from the bed, making his way out of the comfort of the small room and down the hall towards the kitchen where he heard people talking. Nelda was sitting in the same spot at the table that she was last night, beside her where Castiel had sat was the same man he'd seen in some of the pictures on the walls. When they saw him enter they stopped talking and smiled kindly at him.

"Morning sweetie. Sleep well?" Castiel nodded but made no move to sit down with them. "Good. Castiel, this is Hank. Hank, Castiel."

"Nice to meet you Castiel. It's a pleasure to have you stay with us. Please, come sit down." Again Castiel nodded, but this time went over to sit on the other side of Nelda. On the table sat three plates, one with something that looked like bread, another with what he knew was fruit, and another with some form of meat. The smell made his stomach start to twist again.

"Well don't just sit there, dig in darling. You need to eat if you're going to travel." Cas took one of the clear plates also at the table and took just enough of each of the foods he thought would satisfy his hunger. Hank stood and kissed Nelda on the top of the head.

"Well, I best be headin' out. Again Castiel, it was a pleasure meeting you. I hope you make it home to your family safely." He moved out of the door they had come in the night before and Castiel could hear the roar of the engine, most likely the old Mustang, and the crunching of gravel under the tires. Nelda sighed to herself before picking up a strawberry to begin eating.

"He has work." Castiel only nodded again. The food was what normal people would call delicious, but he didn't let himself enjoy it. Nelda was right. If he was going to travel to Kansas to get to Sam and Dean he was going to need to eat and get his strength. "So I have good news and bad news." She watched Castiel place a piece of the food in his mouth and chew slowly while waiting for her to continue. "First, I guess, the storm has passed, so that's good. But, even so, the only bus out of West Plains doesn't leave till tomorrow morning. So I guess, if you want, you can stay here again till tomorrow. We will take you down to the stop first thing in the morning so you won't miss it, but I was thinking, maybe if you knew these Sam and Dean's number we could call one and tell them you are on your way." Castiel hadn't had his cellphone for months now, and with his weak human brain, couldn't remember any of the phone numbers they had. "Don't know them? That's okay, we can look it up." Nelda stood and went to get a large black laptop and returned beside Castiel, clearing a spot on the table for it. "Okay, so you said they were in Kansas, do you know the city they are in?"

"Richfield." He leaned over to see Nelda typing that into the computer.

"Good start. Do you know their address?" He began to shake his head.

"No. They don't live there. They stayed at a motel." She made a clicking noise with her tongue, contemplating what to do next.

"You don't happen to know the name of the place they are staying at do you?" Again Castiel shook his head.

"I would probably know it if I saw it, but, no not offhand." She clicked a few more buttons before settling her eyes on something Castiel didn't understand. She stared at it for a few moments before turning her gaze back to him. "Well, there are three motels in that area, Budget Inn, Peddler's Inn, and Hills Inn, any of 'em ringing your bells?" She asked. Right away Castiel knew.

"Yes, Peddler's Inn. Room, 23A I believe." Nelda's face broke out into a wide grin before she went back to typing something in her computer. A minute later she was grabbing her phone, typing something into that. "Hello, yes, I would like to redirect my call to room 23A please. Yes, I'll hold." She came back over to Castiel, handing him the phone with another one of her toothy smiles. "They are callin' the room now. If they are there, they should answer."

Castiel grabbed the phone without any questions and placed it up to his ear. The hum of the ringing was too loud for a phone call, but he didn't complain. The anticipation of getting to hear Dean's voice, or Sam's if he were the one to answer was causing his heart to pound in his chest. He looked over to Nelda who was watching him wide eyed and smiled. Seconds later the line cut off and became dead. Cas removed the phone from his ear and gave it back to Nelda, shaking his head, trying to keep himself from looking disappointed. He wanted so much to hear one of the Winchesters voice again. The ache to see them was even more painful than before.

"No answer?" She asked, hanging the phone back up on the wall. Cas shook his head again. "Oh, well, maybe they aren't in at the moment. We can always try again later. For the time being, you just stay here and make yourself comfortable, but I do have to ask, are you good with your hands?"

….

Castiel worked for hours in Nelda's garden. The plot was almost completely destroyed by the storm the night before. Some of her fruits, and most of the vegetables were saved, but every one of the spices were gone. He stayed in one position on the muddy Earth, pulling weeds, with a little help from one of Nelda's children, Kate, since he didn't know what a weed was and what the actual plant was. He removed most of what he saw, placing the waste in a small bucket to his side. He removed the dead plants, the dead, or rotting, produce that sometimes were on the bushes and placed them in the bucket as well.

Even after the storm it was very hot outside. If he'd had been wearing his coat, he was sure he would be sweating more than he was by just wearing Hank's cotton tee-shirt. The sun beat down on his back as he removed the last of the weeds from the small section of what was left of her potatoes, there were only two still there from the original five. Kate and Ethan were sitting beside the patch of greens playing with some of the toys he had seen on the lawn before. They were both friendly, and oddly curious, when it came to Castiel. They wanted to know everything they could about him. He tried to answer them the best he could without telling too much. Hank arrived back from work a few hours into the yard work. After changing he came outside to help pick up some of the heavy debris that was now scattering their front lawn. Nelda even came out earlier giving all four of them a drink she called lemonade. It was unpleasant on Castiel's tongue, but it quenched his thirst enough for him to get back to working on the garden.

He enjoyed it.

He mostly enjoyed the flowers he had seen on his way in the night before. He took extra time caring for them when he made it over to that section. The colors were what made him interested; they were much more vibrant in the daylight. Second would be the aroma they possessed. It reminded him of a piece of Heaven he had visited before. She was an old lady who passed away from a stoke on her 78th birthday. He never stayed there long enough to know her more, than the fact that she loved flowers. Her favorite were carnations, yellow ones to be exact. Castiel personally didn't like them, but the way the woman smiled when she saw them made them special to him. He remembered her garden vividly. That was all her Heaven was, just one big garden. Much like what the Garden Joshua took care of. She had every flower in existence surrounding her. Even though they didn't need it, she took care of them. Once, Castiel had caught her talking to them. Of course she didn't notice him, but he felt like he was intruding. She was alone when she was alive. All the woman had in the world were her flowers to keep her company. She loved to speak to them like they understood her. He didn't understand it, but Castiel couldn't help but smile when he thought of the memory.

Even though Nelda's flowers weren't as extreme as had been in the woman's Heaven, they were still what someone would call beautiful. They still made her happy and in return, that made Castiel happy. Even when the work was done in the garden Castiel just sat in between the leaves and watched the gentle wind blow them around. At one point he had seen a bee float from petal to petal. Castiel smiled wide.

Even though Dean and Sam had said he was 'crazy' almost two years ago, and he didn't remember some of his time as a 'crazy' person, he remembered the bees. He'd always liked the bees. Just like this moment he would just sit amongst them and just watch. He would watch them surround the flowers, get what they needed, and leave. He never bothered them, and they returned the gesture. At one point Castiel just closed his eyes and let his human senses take him to a place he could never go as an Angel.

He could smell the rain. It still hung in the air even hours later. It was crisp and clean, natural. He smelled the Earth below him. The wetness of the mud smelled of dirt and he could pick up bits of the flower's smell mixed in.

He could hear in the distance a single bird singing in a high pitched tone to a song he didn't recognize or know the words of. He could hear the voices of Nelda's children beside him, and the conversation between her and Hank. He could hear the leaves on the trees whistle against the wind as they dance around him. He could hear the sound of cars rushing past on the road in front of the house. But it was the absence of what he couldn't hear anymore that shocked him more than his new senses. He could no longer hear prayers. He missed being able to hear Dean's calls for help, Sam's too. He missed hearing them and being able to fly in to the rescue if at all possible.

Then that gave him another thought.

He no longer had his wings.

Castiel arched his back and turned his head as far as he could to look behind him. All he saw was mud and endless green leaves. Before he would have been able to see wings, _his wings_. They weren't perfect. They were torn and scorched black from the years before when he retrieved Dean from Hell. Before, they had been full and white, just like most of the Angel's he knew. But after he entered Hell the fire turned them charcoal black and he began to lose some of his feathers. Amongst the feathers were patches where they had been torn away. In Heaven his black wings had been a symbol of bravery, sacrifice, of God's Will. He arched his back again, the way he normally would when spreading his wings wide and big, but nothing. He was greeted with nothing.

The hole in his chest only grew.

When Castiel looked up he saw Nelda watching him with a look on her face he could not interpret. She smiled weakly at him before walking back inside the house. Hank looked down at him and smiled the same way Nelda just did.

"You done in the garden yet? I could really use some help." Cas nodded and stood, dusting off as much mud as he could from the pair of borrowed Jeans he wore. Hank went over towards the rear of the house, Castiel close behind, and stopped when they came to a ladder resting on the side of the house. "Hope you're not afraid of heights." Cas shook his head and followed Hank up the ladder till he was standing on the roof, where he then saw the large hole right in the middle. "Storm was a nasty one." Around the area Hank had already gathered what he would need to fix it up as much as he could. There were some tools Castiel knew only because he watched Dean fix up the Impala, although he never told him that. They kneeled around the hole, both a safe distance away, before Hank let out a sigh and began to drag a large piece of wood away from the opening. Castiel went over and helped pull it away before they took a newer piece over to the hole, placing it on top. "Too big." He muttered. "Mind grabbing me that saw over there, think I can get it down to a good size." Castiel did as he was asked and went back over to where the tools were scattered. He looked through, pointing out some that he knew, and looking questioningly at others he didn't. "It's long, has sharp edges." He picked up the only one fitting the description and brought it back over to Hank. "Guess you're not much of a handy man?" He laughed, rubbing the sharp edges of the saw across the wood in clean fluid motions.

"I suppose not." Castiel answered. Hank just laughed and continued cutting the wood till it looked like it was the appropriate size to fit across the hole. "Here, I'll teach ya' a few things. Pretty much I'm just making sure the wood is a good size. It was slightly bigger than it needed to be, so I cut it down, evenly I might add; don't want it being lopsided now. Here, hand me that drill over there. It's blue, big, has a pointed end?" Castiel went over and grabbed what he thought was the drill and handed it over to Hank. He grabbed something from his pocket and placed it at the corner of the wood and placed the drill on top of it, turning it on. The thing was lowered deep into the wood with a loud sound before it disappeared.

"I'm just making sure the wood is going to be steady and held onto the roof with a few bolts. Don't want it flying off again with another gust of wind." He did the same thing to the other three corners of the wood before pushing against it. When it didn't move he smiled wide and put the drill to the side. "Now, to make sure the wood doesn't rot we are going to put some shingles over top of it. Usually, we'd have the fancy kind that matches the rest of the roof, but that cost money. Just gotta do what you gotta do to get by." Hank stood and went over to grab a hand full of something that looked like it was made from metal, the shingles. "I'm not the best at this, but I do a pretty good job if I say so myself." He laughed loudly before placing the first piece of metal along the first corner of the wood, securing it to its base underneath with some other form of gun that looked a lot like the drill. Hank came down the length of the wood, doing the same thing every time, before making his way across and up till the hole was covered in the gray metal material. "There. Should be as good as new. For now. Gonna have to come back up here some time in a few months to replace the wood underneath. Normal people would just get a contractor to do it, but gotta have money. Just hope we don't get termites anytime soon." They both stood and looked down at the area where the hole had been. Hank looked proud of the work he did, making Castiel smile. "Well looky here, you just fixed your first roof. Nice work buddy." Hank slammed his palm into Castiel's back and laughed out loud again.

They cleaned up the rest of the mess on the roof, removing leaves, mud, and branches, from underneath the, what he now knew as shingles. The cleanup took longer than the actual repair since they hadn't brought up anything to contain the wreckage. By the time they were on the ground for the last time Castiel's body ached from climbing the ladder countless times. Hank just smiled and laughed even more.

They through away the trash and went inside to see Nelda serving Kate and Ethan something that was yellow. Kate's face brightened when they walked in, Ethan just sat expressionless, Nelda just laughed, most likely at the state Castiel was in.

"I think you need to take another shower hon. Hank will lend you some more clothes, then you can come get some dinner. You like Mac and Cheese?"

"I'm not sure, I've never had it."

"Really? I'm sure you'll like it. Go shower now." She waved him on in the direction of the bathroom.

It was nice to get the mud and sweat off his body, but he would be lying if he didn't say he sort of missed it. This was his first day as a true human and nothing went terribly wrong. He fixed a roof. He gardened. He's learning. And all without someone being there as a crutch. Yes, he had to be shown how to do stuff, but he wasn't unintelligent. Today just showed that he can do things for himself. He knew more about being a human than he had originally thought. He wasn't just some baby in a trenchcoat anymore.

He was human.

He was Dean's equal now.

And he would show that to him, he would prove himself to Dean and to Sam. And he will get back with them, apologize, and show them he can be useful even if it killed him.

He would do it for the Winchesters.

_It's the least I can do after…_

After getting out and getting dressed again Castiel came back into the kitchen where Hank and Ethan had disappeared. Kate started to smile again when he came over to sit beside her. He could tell she was watching him, but he didn't say anything. Nelda placed another ceramic bowl in front of him full of the yellow food she called Mac and Cheese. He took his first bite and instantly fell in love with it. He didn't really let himself enjoy the other meals he had had since staying with her, but he enjoyed this one. It was creamy and full of flavor. He couldn't help but gulping it all down in just a few bites and even let himself be serves another helping, this time eating a lot slower.

"I'm going to take it you like Mac and Cheese now." Nelda laughed.

"It's very enjoyable." Castiel answered with a mouth full of the creamy cheese. She only laughed again. Even Kate began to giggle. "Now Castiel, I enjoy your company here and all, but I can't have you stealing the heart of my daughter." Kate's eyes widened while her mouth flew open.

"Mom!" She cried, covering her face.

"I'm sorry?" He asked confused.

Completely oblivious to her daughters discomfort Nelda chimed, "I think my little Kate has taken a liking to you Cas." Kate groaned beside them and scurried off somewhere upstairs. Nelda laughed at the confused face Castiel was wearing. "Tell me, do you have children dear?"

"Um, no, I don't." He said again, taking another bite of cheese.

"A wife maybe?" She wiggled her eyebrows in curiosity.

"No wife either." Nelda's mouth went slightly ajar.

"So, you're all alone? What about these mysterious Sam and Dean characters? Are they all you have?" Castiel thought for a second.

"Yes. They are all I have anymore."

"Not anymore. You have us now." She squeezed his shoulder tight and gave him a wide smile that he had grown used to. "You are always welcome here Castiel." For once he was at a complete loss for words.

"Thank—thank you Nelda."

"Cas, you need to forgive yourself. You couldn't have known." She blurted out, looking torn between being embarrassed and serious.

"I'm sorry—what?" His meal sat before him, forgotten.

"I'm not like most people Castiel—um—Pamela Barnes, and Missouri Mosley, you know them yes?" Cas just nodded. "I'm like them darling. Actually, I was very good friends with Pamela, but I'm highly sensitive you could say. That's how I knew you needed help when I passed you last night. I knew what you once were. You have, incredible energy in you Castiel." She waited for him to say something, but when he didn't she continued. "I felt such hatred, such confusion inside you. You were lost, lonely, but mostly you blamed yourself for the Angel's falling. Someone tricked you, I sensed that. Cas, honey, look at me," She nudged his face up to where he was looking into her green eyes. "You were just trying to do what you thought was right. You thought by—closing, Heaven? Off?—it would make up for what you did a few years ago, am I right?" He nodded. She continued. "Look, I don't know what you did, and I don't need to. I know, no one, no one, deserves to feel the way you are right now Castiel. Nothing can be so bad that you can't forgive yourself. Nothing."

"You don't know what I did—everyone I—everyone I went against—my brothers and sister—you can't understand—" She shook her head, eyes serious.

"No, I can't understand. But I do understand the guilt you feel. Everyone's been there once in their lives darling, maybe not to the extent you're going through, but they have. And it got better. Life moves on. The past is the past, and the only way it stays in the present is if you don't let it go. Others will learn to forgive, they will learn to move on. You need to do the same. You can't let it stay with you for the rest of your life Castiel. It will kill you if you do."

"Maybe that's what I deserve." He whispered. Nelda stayed silent for a long while, just watching the lost, helpless look on Castiel's face. Cas couldn't look her in the eyes. She was trying so hard to help him, he knew that, but what she was saying was wrong. He didn't deserve to feel better. He didn't deserve to forgive himself. He didn't deserve to have others forgive him.

_Maybe I deserve to die. Maybe that's the punishment fit for my crimes._

"Well, it's not going to happen overnight. Just promise me you will try. You need to try to forgive yourself darling. Just try." He could hear her voice give a little at the end of her sentence. If she was sensitive then most likely she was feeling everything Castiel was like a wave of emotion engulfing her. He couldn't believe he hadn't sensed her abilities. But he was human now. He wouldn't have been able to have known had she not told him. And he guessed she only told him because of what he was feeling. He felt bad that while he was living with her she would be forced to suffer along with him. "Anyway, here, let's try and call the motel again." She got up from her seat and walked over to the phone on the wall. After speaking to the person on the other end to redirect her call to their room she handed the phone over to Castiel and began to clean up the remains of their meal. The phone rang with that same too loud buzz like the last time before clicking off and going silent. Panic started to rise in his chest. What if they hadn't stayed in the hotel after what happened? What if they had left and went—where? The Men of Letters bunker? Castiel had only been there a few times. Without his Angelic powers there was no way he could find it by himself. And he's positive it wasn't going to be on any map that he could get to. If they weren't at the motel when he got there, the Winchesters would be lost to him. He would truly have no one.

Castiel hung up the phone with a sigh earning him an apologetic look from Nelda. He just shrugged and went back to his guest room. Tomorrow he would be at the bus stop and on his way to Kansas. He would be back with the Winchesters soon. It was the only thing that mattered at the moment. He had to have hope. Just this once.

The small confinement of his guest room weren't as inviting, as safe, as he had thought the night before. He thought of the nightmares he had had when he fell asleep and in no way wanted to relive them again. But his body disagreed wholeheartedly. After the hours in the sun, and the hard work in the garden and on the roof, not to mention how full he felt, Castiel slumped down on the blankets, pulling them back over his head as he seemed to be growing accustomed too. It was warm. It was nice. But the nightmares still haunted him.

Still after an hour of laying with his knees to his chest and the blanket high over his head, staring at nothing in particular, Castiel's eyes started to droop until he was soon asleep, snoring ever so softly.

….

He was going to miss them. There were no questions about it. In just two short days he's felt more at home, more at peace, than ever before. Mostly he would miss Nelda. She was so kind to him it hurt that he had to leave. But he needed to move on.

They were all standing around the terminal waiting for the bus to begin loading. Hank and Ethan were talking about something to the side of them and Nelda and Kate were standing in front of Castiel, both smiling widely at him.

"Here Cas, we want you to have this." She handed him a small blue bag that was slightly heavy. He looked questioningly at them before poking into the paper. He held a small frame that looked pretty old in his hands. Inside the frame was a picture of Nelda, Hank, Kate, and Ethan all laughing and looking like a normal family. "It was Kate's idea. She didn't want you to forget us." He stared down at it a little longer before meeting Kate's eyes. He lowered himself to her height, bringing her into his arms in a long hug. She smiled so big he thought her face was going to split in two when they separated.

"Thank you. I can't begin to even thank you, all of you. You've helped me so much—"Nelda just waved him off with another one of her shrugs.

"Here, we also packed you some more of Hank's old clothes that he won't miss. Don't worry your suit and coat are in there as well. We just thought you would want something more comfortable to travel in. There are also some sandwiches in there in case you get hungry on the way and can't find a place to eat. Oh, I also put a fifty in the pocket of your coat just in case you need the money. And there's some soap, and a toothbrush, just other things you might need along the way." Nelda took a long deep sigh just as Hank and Ethan came back over. Hank extended his hand for Castiel to take, which he did with no arguments.

"Gonna miss ya Castiel. You're a pretty nice helper around the house." That morning before they left for the buses Cas had helped Hank fix the bathroom sink. He enjoyed being able to help fix things. They shook then Castiel turned his attention to Ethan who was looking down at the ground.

"You're a cool dude Castiel." He mumbled, making Cas smile.

"As are you Ethan." Maybe it was just his imagination, but he thought he saw a small smile play at his lips. Nelda's arms were around Castiel in an instant, knocking him off guard. He returned the hug with just as much love he felt in hers. She was a lot smaller than he was, so she laid her head on his chest.

"Come back to see us some time Cas. We sure will miss 'ya." He nodded, only tightening the hug even more. "And Cas, try. Please try." She whispered in his ear so only he could hear her. But whether or not the others heard, he was pretty sure he would have been the only one to understand what it was she was telling him. He nodded again, closing his eyes tight.

"I will. I promise." He whispered back, before they broke the emotional embrace. Overhead the speakers announced his bus was now boarding. With one last look at each of the Weber's individually, Castiel turned around slowly to head towards the bus.

It was packed. He could barely find a seat that would fit him and his small carry on suitcase. Towards the middle of the bus he sat down near the window and began to search for the family who took him in. Mixed in with the crowd he saw Nelda waving towards the direction he had headed. Even though she probably couldn't see him, Castiel began to wave back, sending another wave of thank you towards her general direction. She must have felt it because her smile widened.

Other people packed onto the bus with their belongings, stuffing most of them away in the totes above the seats, other keeping them close beside them as Castiel was doing with his own. More people came on, but even with the limited space no one came to sit in the empty space beside him. He didn't mind. It would give him extra room to stretch out on and he mostly wanted to be alone at this point. Big crowds still made him uncomfortable.

Just as the bus was about to take off a man, around Jimmy's age, came over towards Castiel, plopping down in the space beside him. He looked out of breathe, and very tired. Dark circles covered his eyes, which looked as though they were beginning to sink back inside him. Castiel felt bad for the man.

Although they sat fairly close neither one of them spoke to the other. Castiel starred out the window at the passing scenery. The sky was clear again today, no signs of the storm that happened two days ago. In fact, the sun was shining down again incredibly bright. He wanted to be back in the garden, tending to Nelda's flowers, or helping Hank fix something else around the house, but he wanted to see Dean and Sam again more. That's what this was about.

An hour had passed since he got on the bus and their first stop was coming up shortly to refuel and let the passengers stretch their legs. Even before Castiel had hated the bus. It was easier and quicker to fly wherever he needed to go. Not to mention it was too cramped.

The man beside him just starred ahead silently, looking at nothing. He should have taken a nap on the way, seeing as though he desperately needed it. But Castiel didn't comment on it. Instead he rested his head on the window, which was slightly warm from the sun, and closed his eyes.

Being human wasn't what he thought it would be. But not to say it wasn't all bad. Since he fell, just in the span of two days, he's learned a lot of things he didn't know before. He's made more friends, who obviously cared a lot about him or they wouldn't have done this for him. And without them, Castiel would not have been able to make his way to Kansas. He wouldn't be able to get back to the Winchesters if it hadn't been for Nelda and her family. They have given him more than enough.

_They've given me family. _

Castiel knew that the first thing he would tell the Winchesters when he got back was how sorry he was. The second would be about Nelda. How she helped him when he was alone. Family was always important to them so they would appreciate her even if they didn't consider Castiel a part of their family anymore; he thinks it would make them smile. After all the evil they've seen in the world it was nice to have just that slimmer of good. Just that slimmer of hope when everything seemed lost. People like Nelda and Hank were what made being human bearable through the hard times. He knew not everyone was going to be as welcoming, as open to a random stranger as they had been, but he could dream. After all, they were still God's children. They should have some kindness in them, somewhere, even if hidden deep down. But they were only human. They weren't perfect. Even the Angel's had been far from perfect. Castiel was far from perfect.

….

The first stop was uneventful. He got out, stretched his legs, used the bathroom, and went back to his seat to wait for the departure. They stopped two more times over the course of the twelve hour drive. When they pulled into the last bus terminal he knew he was finally there. He was in Richfield, Kansas where Dean and Sam where supposed to be.

He was finally coming home.

Castiel grabbed his bag and made his way towards the exit in the back of the bus. The wind was colder than it had been in Missouri, making him want to reach into the bag Nelda had packed for him and retrieve his coat. Cas went over to a bench that was abandoned and searched through the clothes. He tugged on the coat, wrapping it securely around his waist. It was the only thing familiar about the situation anymore. Something was better than nothing after all. Just as he was about to turn around to head to the taxi service a man bumped into him, sending his case to the floor, almost knocking him down with it.

"Excuse me." Castiel said, reaching to retrieve his fallen bag. The man had been the same person who sat beside him the whole trip to Kansas.

"I apologize." He mumbled before turning to walk away. Castiel didn't know what it was, maybe the look in the man's eyes, or the way he looked over Castiel in return, but he thought that the man looked familiar, or possible _felt_ familiar. Before Cas was able to call out to the man to see if he was one of his brothers or sisters he was already lost in the crowd.

_How many of these strangers I pass on the street could be Fallen Angel's?_

He would find out later. Dean would have a plan to find his family, maybe even a plan to get their Grace's back and take back Heaven from Metatron. After all, Kevin still had the Angel tablet. There was still hope.

Castiel made his way through the crowd of people towards one of the yellow cabs. He entered the vehicle and told the driver the name of the motel he needed to get to. His nerves were getting the better of him. It was impossible for Castiel to sit still for the fifteen minutes it took to get from the bus station to Peddler's Inn. The whole time he was trapped in the car Castiel planned out what exactly what he was going to say to them together, then what he planned to say to them separately. He planned everything out word for word, trying to phrase things perfectly, then getting nervous and rephrasing them over again to make it sound better. When they finally pulled up to the entrance, Castiel was sweating from the anticipation. He didn't even feel this nervous when he had to ask Dean for help after trying to become God. He'd never felt these nerves before; it scared him. It was only Sam and Dean. The two brothers he's died for, he's saved from Hell, he's loved for years.

_But I've never done anything this bad before. _

Cas exited the yellow car, making sure he kept his bag close, and paid the man what he thought was the right amount of money. Even if it weren't, he was with the Winchesters now. They could figure out their financial problems together.

Walking along the side of the motel, Castiel glanced at the numbers on the doors, desperately needing to see 23A soon. His heart was beating so loudly in his chest he was afraid that it would come out any second now. The numbers moved up slowly.

_18A_

_19A_

_20A_

He was almost there. He could see it now. The blue paint was chipped. The metal numbers were falling off. But he could see it.

_21A _

_22A_

_23A _

This was it. The moment of truth. Were they even in there? Were they even alive? Would they even want to see him?

Deciding no time was better than the present; Castiel took a long, deep breath, placed his fist to the door and knocked.

No answer.

Panic rose in his chest. They weren't there. They weren't alive. They left town. There was no way he was going to find them anymore. They were lost to him.

He knocked again, a little louder this time.

Still there was no answer.

He couldn't hear any sounds coming from the other end.

Castiel turned his back to the door and squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't notice that his bag at dropped to the ground beside him. He didn't notice that tears were staining his cheeks. He didn't notice he was holding his breath.

All he noticed was how alone he felt.

The door to the motel suddenly flung itself open sending a gust of wind straight for Castiel. He turned around in a rush, eyes wide, mouth agape. The breath he had been holding released when he saw him standing in the doorway.

"Cas—"

"Dean—"

They stayed silent for what seemed like hours, just staring at each other. Tears continued to flow down Castiel's cheeks, but he had no intentions of stopping them or wiping them away. It was time. He could say what he had planned in the cab ride over. He could tell Dean everything he wanted. He could finally apologize because he was standing right there in front of him. He was here. He was—

"What are you doing here?" There was obvious anger behind those words, making Cas take a step back.

"I—I—Dean—I—came—to—"

"To what Castiel? To apologize? Like you always do? You always fuck up then come running back with your tail between your legs like some lost puppy. Dude, this is beyond apologizing this time. Where the hell were you when Sam was dying? I called to you Castiel! I screamed your name for hours to come and fucking help my brother! I told you Cas! I told you not to do it! But you never fucking listen to me man!"

Dean was inches from his face, screaming at him. Castiel stared wide eyed up at Dean, shocked. His breathing came out jagged and short. He tried to take a step back, but almost fell off the sidewalk.

"Dean—I—I—" He couldn't find his word. His lungs began to burn with the lack of oxygen. His body began to shake with his silent sobs. "Dean—please—I came—I—Dean—" He looked around panicked, unable to focus on one thing for too long, unable to look directly at Dean. "Please—Dean—I—Dean—" He felt himself begin to sway but made no movements to keep himself upright. Everything was going wrong. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. He was supposed to apologize, to Sam, to Dean, they were supposed to be upset, but eventually forgive him. He was supposed to come home, not to be turned away. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. "Dean—" His arms suddenly appeared around Castiel, pulling him into his chest. Underneath him he could feel Dean's own breathing was irregular, unsteady. The longer they stayed that way the harder it became to breath; the tighter Dean held him.

"Cas, damn it. Just listen to me. Please—" His voice began to waver. "Damn it Castiel, I thought I lost you. I thought I lost Sam. The Angels were falling, and I didn't know what to do about Sam, I didn't know if Metatron had killed you or not. Fuck, man. Just listen to me." More sobs escaped the back of Castiel's throat, muffled by Dean's tear soaked ACDC shirt.

"Sorry—" He managed. "So sorry Dean—" More sobs. Dean held tighter. "My fault. All my fault."

"'sokay Cas. 'sokay. It's going to be fine. We can get through this. It isn't even the worst thing we've faced. Hey, look at me." Dean pulled Cas away from him, nudging his head upward to meet his eyes. One of Dean's thumbs rubbed away at a tear that began to fall. "It's going to be okay. You're alive. Sam's alive. The rest we can figure out as we go. Okay?" He nodded. "Good. Come inside man. It's really good to see you Cas, we thought, we thought the worse." They parted slowly. As Dean walked back into the motel room, Castiel bent down to retrieve the case that had fallen. He hoped the picture frame hadn't broken in the fall.

Their motel room was small, as they all were, but it was familiar. It had the same two full beds all the rest had, both topped with bright red blankets and two pillows each. On the one on the right, Sam laid with his back towards them, obviously sleeping. The place had a small couch, a small TV set, and a small round table piled with empty beer cans and whiskey bottles. He surveyed the room one last time for something else noteworthy but came up clean. It was almost as if they were about to leave.

"You nearly missed us Cas. Another few hours and we woulda' been gone. Headin' back to the bunker since Sam is feeling better." Castiel placed his case beside the door and removed the coat from his shoulder, folding it neatly and placing it on top of the chair. Dean held two glasses he got from somewhere and began to pour whiskey in both. He kept one while handing the other to Cas.

"I'm glad I got here on time then. I wouldn't have been able to find you if I hadn't." He spoke into the alcohol, not really sure if he wanted to attempt to drink it with the state he was in at the moment. Dean had already downed his glass.

"You've been there before though." He stated, pouring another glass.

"Yes. As an Angel Dean. I can't remember a lot of the stuff I once knew. It's almost as if that part of my life is being blocked by this human brain. It's frustrating." He sighed, setting the glass down on the table near Dean in case he wanted it.

"Sorry man. It must be hard. Not being and Angel anymore."

"Yes. It is. Incredibly hard." They stayed silent again. Neither really knowing what else to say. A loud snore came from over on the bed, directing Castiel's attention to Sam, who was just beginning to sit up.

"Cas?" He yawned, stretching his body up in the air along with it.

"Hello Sam." He greeted, trying to put on a smile; it didn't seem to work. So fast he didn't even see him get up, Dean was over at the bed, kneeling before Sam. He talked in hushed tones where Castiel could hardly hear what was being said.

"Heya Sammy, how was your nap?"

"Fine Dean. I'm fine." Dean stood and came back over to the table, grabbing his half empty bottle of whiskey.

"Yah, I'll believe you when you start to look fine." He hadn't noticed it before, but Sam did look as though he was dying. His eyes were dilated to where it was all black, and sunken in. He looked thin, incredibly thin. And pale. He was ghostly pale. His hair was tied back with a rubber band, but small tuffs still poked out from his sleep. It was hard to look at him for too long.

"Seriously Dean, I'm okay." He looked away from his brother and set his gaze on Castiel. Cas froze when he saw Sam watching him. Would he say the same things Dean had said? Would he be angry with him too? Instead, Sam stood, with a little sway in his step walked over to Cas and wrapped his arms around him. Dean was beside them, hovering in case Sam needed him. He could feel Sam let out a huff of breath that hit his back. He was weak. He was very weak. The hug was short, but meaningful. They parted and Dean helped Sam walk over and sit back down on the edge of the bed. "We're glad you're back Cas. We thought you were gone." He let out a loud cough, covering it with his hand. When he removed it from his mouth Castiel saw the smallest trace of blood, which Sam quickly hid from Dean's sight. They shared a look; Sam wide eyed like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have.

"No. Not, dead," He began to answer trying to get the image of blood out of his mind. "Just human."

"So it's true. The Angel's, you, you all fell?" Sam's eyes were wide as he looked between Dean and then back to Castiel.

"Yes." Was all he could manage to utter without shedding even more tears than he had in front of Dean earlier.

"What happened Cas? Was it Metatron?" Cas' head fell down, trying to make himself seem as small as possible. He didn't want to relive it just yet. He knew that soon he would have to tell the Winchesters everything that had happened when he left, but not now. Not when he just had a mental breakdown. Not when he just got back to them. Not when Sam was sitting there, lying to his brother about being okay, when he'd just saw him cough up blood. Not when Dean was looking at him that way.

_Not now. _

"Heya, Sammy, the guy's had a long trip. He's probably exhausted. Look, we wanna know what happened like hell Cas, but it's cool man, just take all the time you need, kay?" Castiel shook his head, still trying to hide from their eyes. "Anyway, we'll have plenty of time to talk when we get back to the bunker. Sam, you good to pack some things?" Sam nodded and began to stand, still with a slight sway.

"What exactly happened after I left?" Castiel blurted, looking mostly at Sam. From the corner of his eyes he saw Dean tense at the question. "I'm sorry, I don't have the right to know anymore."

"Of course you do Cas. It's fine. Don't know if you can tell or not, but we didn't exactly shut the gates like planned." Sam was rolling his eyes at the statement.

"Was Naomi right?" This time he directed the question towards Dean. He wasn't sure if Sam knew what he was talking about or not.

"I—I think so. The way he looked before I stopped him—hell even after I stopped him—I didn't—I didn't know if he was going to make it." Dean's body was rigid with is back to the both of them. It was obvious he was tearing up but neither Sam nor Castiel commented on it. They both knew what would have happened to Dean had he lost Sam. "Hey Cas, I know you just got back an' everything but do you think you could help Sam get things packed while I go make a gas run. I'll even stop and get us some grub."

"All right." Grabbing his wallet from the table Dean turned to look at Sam once more before heading out the door. Both men listened to the sound of the Impala starting up and driving in silence. Even when they couldn't hear the sound of her engine anymore neither spoke for a while. Castiel went over to the bed he thought was Dean's and began to place some of the clothes that were laid out back into the only duffle bag he could find. He could feel Sam watching him as he worked, but he tried to ignore it. It wasn't the reunion he had imagined, nowhere near it in fact, but it would do. They were together again, anything else was just details they could figure out later.

It was just nice to be home again.

After everything they needed was packed away and waiting by the door, Castiel grabbed the hotel room phone and typed in Nelda's number. She picked up on the third ring. He would be lying if he said he wasn't relieved to hear her voice. After what had happened it was just a relief to be able to tell someone what he was feeling.

"Cas, did you make it there safely?" He nodded, but then remembered she couldn't see him.

"Yes. I did. Thank you again for all you did." Sam was making an effort to make it look like he wasn't eavesdropping.

"No need to thank me dear, you know that. Now, were the boys there? Were they happy to see you?" He could hear the excitement in her voice making Castiel smile.

"They were. But not at first. I think it was just a surprise that I came back to be honest." He spoke lower into the receiver, trying to keep his words a secret from Sam.

"Oh I'm sure Cas. Just a little surprised, that's all." There was a long pause before she spoke again. Even before she said anything he already knew what she was going to ask. "Did you tell them you were sorry Castiel?" He turned to look at Sam once more; he was staring back with confusion written all over his face.

"I did to Dean."

"And?"

"He said that it was beyond apologizing this time." Sam's eyes widened. He could hear Nelda take in a deep breath as if it shocked her.

"Cas honey, I'm sure he didn't mean it that way."

"I think he did Nelda. And he's right," Castiel turned away from Sam again and spoke lower. "It was beyond saying I was sorry. He was right, I always mess up and come back to apologize, as if that would make things better. It doesn't this time though. It's bigger than a simple, 'I'm sorry.'" Again she was silent.

"What did _I_ tell you Castiel? I said, you have to learn to forgive yourself before you can expect anyone else too. Have you even tried yet?"

"No, Nelda. I just—I just can't—I'm sorry. I just don't know how." He knew it was rude, but he had to do it. Castiel hung up the phone without so much as a goodbye. The room was silent making Cas feel very uncomfortable. He knew that Sam had heard everything that was said and he knew that he would want to talk about it, seeing as though that was just the type of person Sam was, but he just didn't know if he could.

"Cas?" He finally spoke in a soft voice, one he only used when he was talking to Dean about something important. He tried to ignore it and focus on his breathing. "Cas? What's going on? Between you and Dean—between yourself?" Again he stayed silent. "Come on Cas, I know I'm not Dean, but I do care about you and, I can try to help if you let me." Castiel turned around and went over to sit on Dean's bed, facing Sam.

"Thank you Sam, but, you can't help me. Neither can Dean. It's something I have to work through on my own." He whispered, looking down at the lose piece of fabric on the blanket.

"Cas, you don't have to work through this by yourself. You're like family to us man. And family doesn't just turn their backs on each other because things get hard. I thought you would have learned that from us by now." He ended the last sentence with one of Sam's wide toothy grins. Cas thought back to when he was under Naomi's control, how the sound of Dean saying they were family, how they needed him had broken the control. But that was long before he went behind Dean's back again and did what he wasn't supposed to . That was before he made himself, and his family fall.

"Dean made it pretty clear he didn't forgive me." He whispered again.

"Come on man, it's just his time of the month. You mean a lot to him Cas, even though he was being a dick and 'made it pretty clear he doesn't forgive you' you can't take it seriously. Anyway, what is it that he won't forgive you for? The Angel's falling? Me being sick? Cas you can't take those things personally. They weren't your fault. You know that right?"

Shaking his head Castiel whispered even lower, "You're wrong Sam, they were my fault. I'm the one who couldn't come when Dean called to help you. I'm the one who completed the spell that casted the Angel's out of Heaven."

"Spell? What spell?"

"Metatron told me that there were trial, like the one you were doing to close Hell's gates, but instead they would close Heaven's. He told me that I could save my family if I did this. So I listened to him and began the trial. But they weren't trials, they were a spell. The last part was Metatron ripping out my Grace. And, they fell. We all did. And Naomi came to us and told us that Metatron was tricking me, she said that you would die if you completed the trial, she told me that there were not Angel trials. Dean believed her. I didn't. I didn't listen. Dean asked me not to continue with them, but I did anyway. I thought I was doing the right thing. I took Dean back to you, so he could stop you from doing the trials, and I went to Heaven to get the last one of mine. That's when I saw he had killed Naomi, that's when he took my Grace. I should have listened to Dean. I should have—I—" He couldn't finish his last sentence before he had his face in his hands, sobbing again. Sam's hand found his back and began to rub in small circles, trying his best to calm Castiel down. Neither one of them noticed Dean's silent form in the doorway of the motel room.

It took Castiel another thirty minutes to stop crying. He wasn't used to his human emotions anymore making it difficult to stop when he started to cry. Everything that had happened to him just pushed down on his shoulders the same way he assumed Atlas would feel, considering the story were true.

During that time, Dean took their bags to the Impala, helped Sam eat his salad even though he told Dean five times he wasn't hungry, and went to check out. Castiel didn't touch his food either. And neither did Dean. After another ten minutes of silence Castiel started to think maybe it was a bad idea he had come back at all. He felt like the odd one out again. He felt like he no longer belonged there with them. Even though Sam had told him he forgave him, even though he told him it wasn't Cas' fault, he still felt like an outsider. Dean didn't speak to him. He stayed clear of the crying former Angel till it was time to go. Ignoring Sam's persistent complaining; Dean hoisted Sam up from under his arms and supported his weight with his own till he got him to the backside of the Impala. It surprised Castiel, but neither one explained why Sam was sitting in the back instead of upfront with Dean.

What surprised him more was when Dean told him to get in the front.

He never let anyone sit in the front beside Sam.

Still, Castiel wasn't going to object. He sat beside Dean, smiling a little at the gesture. Dean had the windows rolled down, letting the cold Kansas air in, and the radio playing a little too loud in his opinion. But he wasn't going to point it out. Castiel had grown accustomed to Dean being oblivious to how loud he usually played his songs.

To be honest, Castiel liked it. He liked the song that was playing and even began to hum to the beat of it. Dean's eyes perked up as a smile broke out on his face. Within seconds Dean was singing along to the lyrics full-heartedly.

_I watched with glee_

_While your kings and queens_

_Fought for ten decades_

_For the gods they made_

Even in the backseat Sam started to laugh while singing along. Castiel didn't know the words or he would join in, so he continued to hum, but picked up the volume to be heard over the Winchesters laughs.

_I shouted out,_

_"Who killed the Kennedys?"_

_When after all_

_It was you and me_

_Let me please introduce myself_

_I'm a man of wealth and taste_

_And I laid traps for troubadours_

_Who get killed before they reached Bombay_

And for a moment it felt like he was where he belonged. For a moment he felt peace. For a moment, he felt as though that was what Heaven truly was.

….

But it didn't last. Nothing lasts.

While they were driving down the highway, about an hour away from the bunker, Sam became increasingly ill. The motion of the Impala, or perhaps the loud music, caused him to get a headache, leading to him throwing up, blood. Dean pulled over with one sharp turn and threw himself out of the car to get to Sam; all while Castiel watched in horror. He no longer knew what to do, so sitting still and not saying anything seemed like the best option. Sam pushed himself passed Dean and farther away from where he stood starring at his brother. Castiel couldn't be sure if Dean saw what was happening, although he was pretty sure he already knew, but from where Sam stood, his back was away from Dean. He didn't want him to see it. But Cas did. He saw all of it. There was so much blood he wondered where it was all coming from. Blood poured out of Sam's mouth and nose in one big wet mess. It was the kind of sight found in one of Dean's favorite old horror movies. What made it worse, was that there didn't seem to be an end. He just kept gushing blood and neither Dean nor Cas knew what to do. Dean stood behind Sam with his hands on his head, still looking as though his brother was dying; from the looks of it, it seemed as though he might.

When he finished, Sam wiped his mouth and turned to face Dean, face calm, but blood everywhere. There was a look of recognition on Sam's face, then it hit him. This isn't the first time that has happened to Sam. But from Dean's reaction, it was the first time he'd seen it happen.

Sam was in fact dying. And he was keeping it from his brother.

"Sammy—"

"I'm fine Dean, let's just get back to the bunker." He whispered, lowering his head to look at the ground.

"The hell you are Sam! What the fuck was that? Has that happened before? Are you keeping it from me—fuck Sam look at me! This is not okay!" Something seemed to snap in Sam that moment. One minute he was Dean's little brother, being scolded for doing something wrong and the next it was though he was the older brother doing the scolding.

"Yes Dean it's happened before. It happens so freaking often I don't know how you miss it when it does since you won't leave my side! But what can I do? It's not like I can go to the hospital and say, 'hey look, I tried these demon trials to close the gates of Hell forever, but never really finished them so now I'm stuck in this state of dying for God knows how long.' There's nothing you can do about it Dean, it's just going to keep happening until it gets better, or it's over one. So just drop it." For a split second Dean's eyes flashed back to Castiel. For a spilt second he could only see anger, regret, hatred in his eyes. For a split second he didn't recognize the man staring back at him. Then it was gone just as he turned to look back at Sam.

Castiel knew.

Dean blamed him for this.

If he were an Angel again he could heal Sam as best he could.

But he was only human.

Castiel turned his head to look out the other side of the door.

He could still hear them arguing, but he ignored it. It was his fault. He knew that. Dean didn't have to give him that look for him to know that. Nothing Dean said or did would be worse punishment than what he was already doing to himself. He didn't even know why he tried to get Dean to forgive him. Or Sam as well. He didn't deserve to be forgiven. He did this to them, and that's not just something you can apologize for. Finally after some more arguing, both Dean and Sam returned to the car, neither one saying anything. Dean didn't turn on the radio as it had been before. Sam only stared out the window.

It was like this till they got to the bunker.

It wasn't what Castiel was expecting at all; not that he really knew what he was expecting, but this wasn't it. Dean drove right up to the entrance of the bunker and hurled himself out of the car. Throwing the keys to Castiel, Dean opened the back of the Impala to wake Sam, who had been sleeping for almost thirty minutes. Castiel walked around to the trunk to grab their duffels while Dean tried his best to maneuver Sam out of the car. He noticed that most of their weapons weren't in their usual places, but when he had went to Dean a few days ago they were all there. He wondered if maybe Dean had done something to them. Instead he shook it off as not important at the moment.

"Hey, Cas, uh, can 'ya give me a hand here?" He looked over to where they stood and saw Sam's towering body almost crushing Dean. It seemed as though Sam was unconscious again. He nodded then placed the bags near the door just to run back over to Dean. He took Sam under one arm while Dean held the other. Together they pulled Sam down the stairs and into the bunkers entrance where they were greeted by Kevin who had a look of surprise and worry in his eyes.

"Whoa, is he okay? I thought you said he was fine. That doesn't look fine. Cas, what the hell are you doing here? Dean, you said—"

"Kevin! Help now, ask questions later!" Kevin nodded and went behind the boys to grab the bags Castiel had left in the doorway. They pulled Sam further into the bunker till they reached the only room that had a sofa. Dean took Sam's arm from Castiel and gently laid him down onto the blue cushion. As his face hit the fabric Sam let out a loud groan of—pain maybe? He looked up and saw a flash of worry or something else Castiel couldn't decipher. In a flash Kevin was back beside Dean, staring between him and Cas, sometimes Sam. Dean didn't say anything. He walked into the main hall and plumed down into the closest seat, his head resting against the wood of the table; a small groan escaping his own lips. Kevin and Castiel followed suit; Kevin beside Dean, Castiel as far away from them as seemed fit.

He felt out of place.

Whenever Kevin looked at him there was a lot of anger there.

He didn't blame him.

He deserved it.

He knew now that what he said to Kevin before he fell was wrong. He shouldn't have said it. If Kevin wanted to get out then it was up to him, not Cas.

Before Dean could say anything Kevin was on him in an instant.

"Dean, what's going on with Sam? Why is Castiel here? You said everything is fine, this doesn't look fine! Do I look fine? I don't feel fine. Why should I, nothing's going right, right? Sam's dying, Cas went nuclear, you're strung out, hell, why should I be fine." By now Kevin was up from his chair, pacing in front of Dean. Dean watched him with an intense gaze that even made Castiel wince. Kevin on the other hand was completely oblivious to it.

"Kev, shut the hell up for one second so I can explain." Dean mumbled, as though he was trying to talk down to a toddler. Kevin stopped in front of Castiel's chair and stared down at him.

Cas had to look away.

"Start with him. Why is he here?" He practically spat.

"Because he's Cas. Because he is human now and needs somewhere to stay. Because he is our family." Dean spat right back.

"Wait, you're human?"

"Sure, like you can't tell. Yes idiot. The Angels, including Cas, fell." A light bulb flashed in Kevin's mind. He spun around on his heel and went straight for the chair opposite Dean.

"That explains it!" Before Dean had a chance to ask Kevin was already cutting him off. "Those lights, they started to flash not soon after you and Castiel left. Those must have been the Angel's, but, but how? How would the Men of Letters know the Angels were going to fall…have you seen any book or anything on it?" Dean and Cas shared a look of confusion before they turned back to Kevin.

"What are you talking about?" Castiel finally spoke up to ask.

Kevin ignored him.

"Maybe something, like a scribe or an old film about the Angel's, no that doesn't make any sense. They wouldn't have known."

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked, avoiding Cas.

"Remember when you called me after you left the church and were heading back to the Inn? And I told you something was up with the bunker, but you said you had to go? This is what I was trying to tell you." Kevin ran out of the room and to the next. Dean stood like he was about to follow Kevin, but instead turned to face Cas.

"You okay?"

What should he say? No he wasn't okay. He would probably never be okay again. Dean should already know that. He should already know how Castiel was feeling. He always knew how him and Sam were feeling at all times, and always tried to fix them. The look on Dean's face told him what he already knew. He wasn't asking Cas if he was okay because he cared; it was simply because he thought it was the right thing to do. That was one thing Castiel did not want from anyone. Pity.

_Pity_

_Noun_

_The feeling of sorrow and compassion caused by the suffering and misfortunes of others_

He didn't want it; didn't deserve it. Especially not from Dean. He couldn't stand that look that was in Dean's eyes.

"Why wouldn't I be?" He asked, looking anywhere but at Dean.

"Just wondering. 'Ya know, cause Kevin and all…"

"I'm fine Dean. You should go and see whatever it is Kevin was talking about." He stayed only a second longer before turning around to follow Kevin into the other room. Castiel debated whether or not to follow them, but decided against it. They didn't want him there so he would just stay seated. After a while it became increasingly hard to just sit there and do nothing so he stood and went to look around. He'd only been to the bunker a handful of times, but never had he taken the time to actually look at what they had. He'd heard Sam and Dean talk about all the books they had had, but as an Angel, it didn't interest him any.

For the most part they did have a very large collection of rare books. Most of the content within Castiel could remember, but not all of it. His memory was starting to get hazy when it came to most of his time as an Angel. Of course he could remember the most recent events that happened. There came a point though—whenever he tried to remember his time before the Winchester—close to the beginning of humanity—when he would start to forget things. He couldn't remember what it was like then; the scenery, the time, the way things were. He couldn't remember most of the secretes Heaven had trusted upon every Angel. He couldn't remember what his true form fully looked like. There were traces of that memory; his wings and such, but most of it was gone. He could no longer hear his true voice in his head anymore. He could no longer remember what it was like to be within someone else's Heaven. He could no longer hear his sibling's songs anymore.

But he held on to what he could remember.

He could remember what it was like to fly. It was Castiel's favorite part of being a Celestial Being. It wasn't what humans imagined it to be. It wasn't like a bird soaring through the air, more as a particle of dust being carried by the wind from one place in time to another. More like the rays of sunlight traveling through space just to get a moment of glory on Earth before it's moment was over and it evaporated into nothing; except his moment was never over. They just created a new one and just traveled through that, just for the process to be repeated until they arrived where they wanted to go.

Yes.

He remembered everything about flying. There was no forgetting the surge of power it took to become a ray of light. There was no forgetting. He hoped.

Castiel also remembered raising Dean from Hell, Sam too. He remembered that place, but was beginning to forget Heaven. It didn't seem right but it was the way things seemed to be heading. The demons that clawed at him were fresh in his memory. The pain of the blistering heat burning away at his wings was also there. The way Dean looked on the rack would never leave him. Even if that was all he could ever remember at the end, it would stay with him. There was no forgetting the way he called for Sam, the way he asked Castiel who he was, the way he held on to him when Castiel began to leave, the way he cried out when Cas grabbed onto his shoulder. He remembered the way he felt when he had grabbed onto Dean's shoulder. His skin was hot from the fire. It was bloody from the torture, from his own body or some other souls, Castiel never knew. It was worn from the years of pain. He still never knew how Dean did it. He never knew how Dean held out for so long. Yet he never told Dean how much that took. Not that it would matter. Dean wouldn't listen to him even if he did praise him for it. He'd still go on feeling bad about starting the apocalypse like he always did. There was no getting through to Dean on how much bravery and strength that took to hold out.

Most of all Cas remembered his language. Enochian was all he had ever spoken before he was stationed on Earth—however many years ago that was. He wondered if he was ever going to forget how to speak it. He wondered if he was ever going to forget the spells he could teach Sam and Dean that might become useful someday. He suspected as much. It was becoming difficult to even remember what he had said to Dean the day he raised him from Hell. Maybe he would forget. Maybe another piece of who Castiel was would die in time.

In the end—what would be left?

….

Sam continued to get worse. At first it was only the coughing up blood, which was bad enough on its own, but then he began to run a fever that on any normal person would probably kill them. How he wasn't dead already surprised Castiel. He didn't have to be an Angel to know that those trials tore Sam up in ways no one could fix. It wasn't his body that was being killed. It was his soul.

The damage was done to his soul.

Later in the afternoon, probably around six, he began to vomit up more blood than earlier. Kevin ran to the store to get some medicine they thought might help keep everything down, but it was unlikely. Dean stayed beside the couch with a trashcan by their side every time another episode started. It seemed as though every hour they were cleaning up blood. It was like clockwork.

Then the hallucinations began.

It was around eight when Sam started to call out to Dean. He came into the room where Sam had stayed since they got there. Sam started to scream like he'd never heard before. Mixed in with the sweat, tears began to fall down his cheeks. He never once said what he was seeing, but they all had a pretty good idea. Every once in a while he would mutter John's name and sometimes it was Mary's. He even though he heard his own name being muttered but why he would made no sense to Cas.

Finally, Sam fell asleep just around midnight. They managed to get some broth into him without him throwing it back up and even some water. Kevin had found his way into one of the rooms and was beginning to snore just as loud of Sam was. Dean stayed in the arm chair across from the sofa, staring at his brother. His eyes were red and wide. His breathing was irregular. His cheeks were sunken in. Dean held his head in his hands as Castiel heard the first of many sobs.

All Cas could do was stand in the doorway and watch as Dean let himself go. He cried for hours, softly so he didn't wake Sam. His hands were bawled up into fist; every now and again he would hit himself in the leg, curse under his breathe, and then go back to sobbing.

No one had ever seen Dean like this. He didn't know if Dean knew he was there or not. But he knew, Dean would never let anyone see this side of him before which made it all the harder when Castiel moved himself from the entryway and towards the armchair. Dean didn't look up when he approached. Cas kneeled down in front of the chair and placed a hand on Dean's knee. He tensed up but didn't look. He knew only Cas would dare do this and even then he was having trouble. Castiel didn't know how to comfort anyone let alone Dean. He wasn't the most excepting person when it came to someone caring about him. It was worth a shot though. He needed someone now. So Castiel kept his hand on Dean's knee, giving only a small squeezing to say 'It's okay. It will be okay Dean.' Dean's head gradually turned up to meet his, his eyes as would be expected; hollow, lifeless, red, and puffy. Cas gave him a reassuring smile, hopping he wasn't doing anything that would make things worse. It seemed to work. Dean smiled back; even if it was lost and barely there, it was a start. There was no need for words. There was nothing either one could say that would make things better so why speak? Castiel looked back at Sam's sleeping form then back again to Dean, nodding a little. Dean seemed to understand and gave a small shrug. Somehow without either one noticing Dean's hand had come down from his face to cover Castiel's. Taking his free hand Castiel moved it close to Dean's cheek and wiped away one of the stray tears that began to fall. As soon as he did it Cas wished he could take it back. Dean tensed even more; his eyes widening with the touch. He began to move back from Dean's space only to get pulled back in before he could leave.

It was only a brush.

Maybe not even that.

He could feel their lips touching, or maybe it was just the space between them he felt. But it was a kiss. Dean Winchester pulled him in for a kiss.

He didn't even have time to close his eyes before it was over—before Dean was pushing past him to retreat to his room. He saw the look of shock on Deans face before he left—his own most likely mirroring it.

He listened to the sound of Deans feet instantaneously rushing towards isolation. When the door closed with a loud bang Castiel let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. The only sound in the room was Sam's snoring.

He stayed in that position dumbfounded as of what to do next. He knew well enough to not go after Dean. And his brain couldn't function enough to process what had just happened. So he sat. Castiel moved from the floor to the arm chair Dean had been recently been sitting his. His eyes scanned over Sam once before settling them on the back of the wall. He stayed watching over Sam till morning.

….

When Dean walked into the living room Castiel was still sitting in that same arm chair, staring between Sam and the back wall. At first he didn't even know Dean was there until he cleared his throat to get his attention. With one last look at Sam, Cas got up from the chair and walked into the main hall with Dean. They were silent while Dean looked around the corner to check on Sam again before turning to face Cas. He could feel his cheeks begin to heat up when Dean looked anywhere but into his eyes. Whether it was from anger or embarrassment Castiel didn't know.

"Did you stay up all night watching him?" Dean began to pick at a loose thread on his shirt. Something started to settle deep in Castiel's stomach as he watched him.

"Yes." Was the only thing he could think to answer.

"You didn't have to do that. I was going to come back after I sleep a little—man you look tired. You should get some sleep." There it was again. That same weird feeling poked at the back of Cas' mind. Dean perked up too in fact. His eyes were less hopeless than the night before. He was even beginning to show signs of smiling, which under the circumstances was odd. Cas tilted his head to the side as he tried to figure out what was wrong with Dean. "'Ya, man seriously get some sleep. You're probably hungry too. Same. I'm gonna have Kev watch over Sammy while I run into town to grab some grub. We're sorta runnin' low." He was just about to speak when Dean began to back up towards the main door. "Seriously man you look exhausted. Get some sleep. I'll only be, say, two hours tops." Cas only managed a nod before Dean was walking out the door with the Impala keys in hand. He stared after him in awe. The feeling that had been settling in his stomach since Dean woke up still hadn't faded. It was unusual. Cas didn't know what to make of it so he pushed it out of his mind.

Dean was right though. He was tired beyond belief. It had gotten to the point where he couldn't keep his eyes open for more than a few minutes. The only place he knew of that wasn't being occupied at the moment was Dean's room. It felt weird going into it without his permission but at that moment Castiel didn't care very much. It hadn't changed any since the last time he saw it. Dean still had his weapons on his wall. There was still the crucifix and salt on the ledge behind his bed. And on the lamp beside his bed was still the picture of his mother, torn and frayed, but still important nonetheless. It was exactly the way Dean wanted it; clean, orderly. It was his.

Castiel pulled off the trenchcoat and laid it across the edge of the bed, before pulling off his pants and pulling on a pair of Dean's sweats he had found in one of the unpacked duffels. Maybe taking his clothes would be crossing the line a little, but he didn't care. He needed sleep.

The bed was comfortable when he laid his head down. It was possible he would fall asleep before pulling the covers over his head. Cas still couldn't sleep without making himself seem as small as possible under the blankets. Even so, it didn't take long before he was pulled under.

….

_Castiel. _

_That voice where had he heard that voice before._

_His memory was wavering again._

_More and more lost every day._

_But that voice…_

_He knew that voice from somewhere._

_Castiel. Castiel. Castiel. Castiel. Cas—_

_Naomi._

_Naomi was stabbed in the head with her drill._

_Her drill._

_Cas' eye._

_She controlled him._

_Castiel. Why?_

_The drill._

_She controlled him. _

_She made him kill one thousand Deans. _

_She almost made him kill the real Dean._

_She controlled him._

_Castiel, why?_

_Castiel._

_She wanted forgiveness._

_She warned him._

_She thought she was doing the right thing for Heaven._

_Castiel thought he was doing the right thing for Heaven._

_You always do Castiel._

_The drill. He can see it now. He can see Naomi now. His eye. She is drilling into his eye again._

_Castiel why? Why did you do this to your family?_

_The blood flows down his cheek from where the drill enters._

_Naomi. _

_Why Castiel? You did this to us?_

_You did this Castiel._

_…._

The sounds of his own screams sounded in his ears mixed in with someone else's. Castiel's eyes shot open just to find himself in a pitch black room as he's being held down by someone. He screamed more, terrified now. Naomi has him again. It was all a trick. Naomi is controlling his mind again. He fights. He tries to break away from their grip but they are too strong. They hold him down by his shoulders as their face grows closer.

"Castiel damn it! Wake up!" He grows still. Dean. It's only Dean. He lets out a breath while Dean moves to sit on the side of the bed. Castiel's heart begins to race in his chest. He can feel tears begin to form in his eyes. Even though he knows Dean can't see him in the dark he turns his head away from him anyway. "You okay Cas?" He asked in a hushed voice.

"I'm fine." He lied. "What time is it?"

"It's a little after midnight. Cas, you're not fine. What's going on? Talk to me man." Castiel stays silent. Dean wouldn't understand. If anything he would be annoyed with him being woke up over nothing. That's all it was. It was nothing. Still, he couldn't get himself to stop shaking. It was so real. For a moment he thought he was back in Naomi's office under her drill. For a moment he thought that he was an Angel again. For a moment he thought he hadn't made his brother's and sister's fall. It felt as though he was given a second chance to get things right. But no. It was just another nightmare. Dean wouldn't understand. "Cas, please.." He heard Dean beg under his breath.

"It's—it's just another nightmare. It's nothing." Cas turned his head to look at Dean just to see him watching him. A light smile cornered Dean's mouth.

"'Sokay Cas. You wanna talk about it or..?" Quickly Cas shook his head.

"No. Dean. It's fine. You wouldn't understand." His smile was gone; a frown taking its place.

"What do you mean I wouldn't understand? Hell, I would probably understand more than anyone else Cas. I went through—shit—sometimes I'm still going through what you're experiencing. Look at Sam, he couldn't sleep for days, almost weeks because of how bad his nightmares got. Kevin even gets them about his mom. Every human gets nightmares. Ours just happen to be a lot worse than them, but you got to tell yourself, that they are only that. Nightmares. Even though they may be flashbacks of what happened before, like my time in hell, that's all they are Cas. The past. You got to move on man."

"I can't Dean—I just—I just can't." It wasn't hard to hear the hysteria in his voice. He appreciated Dean not commenting on it. He only lowered his voice and starts to speak to Cas softer.

"Cas, they will get better. Okay? Just, give it time man. Get some sleep. You need it." He could feel Dean's hand move to his shoulder. They both tensed up a bit before he removed it and stood from the bed. Before he could leave Castiel turned to face him.

"Dean?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

"'Sno problem Cas. Sleep dude."

…..

He didn't sleep. He stayed awake lying on Dean's bed listening to the occasional sounds of Sam's snores and the even more occasional sounds of Dean whispering to Sam. It was painful—hearing the way Dean talked to Sam. His brother was dying, they all knew that. This time was different. There had always been a way to get them back before if one of them died, Castiel personally made sure of that, mainly for his own selfish reasons—he couldn't live without the Winchesters any more than they could live without the other. But there was no way to keep them from death anymore. With the Angel's gone, with Castiel human, if something were to happen to one of them, they would be gone forever. Mostly considering no crossroads demon in their right mind would deal with either Sam or Dean. And Castiel didn't have a soul to sell so that was out of the question.

More likely than not, they were going to lose Sam.

Meaning he was going to lose Dean too.

It was terrifying. Castiel was usually never scared of anything, but the thought of the future did scare him now. He wondered if these thoughts went through Dean's mind too, or Sam's. They must have. It was staring them all in the eyes now. Sooner or later it was bound to come true.

So lying in bed listening to the caring, sure way Dean spoke to Sam hurt Cas more than anything he had experienced. If he could, Castiel would give anything to make Sam better so neither one of them had to go through what he thought the outcome would be. He'd give up anything to save them from that.

He listened closer to their hushed tones. He was three rooms away from them, but the emptiness of the bunker made their voices bounce off the walls. It was hard to hear what Sam was saying to Dean, but he could hear clearly what Dean said back since he was nearly shouting.

"Sam, don't. Sammy please. Just, just go back to sleep. Things will get better you'll see."

Sam spoke in an inaudible voice.

"Seriously man, stop it. You're going to be fine. Crowley, we can find him. Abandon doesn't matter right now. And Kevin seems to be doing fine."

Sam asked Dean something.

"What does he have to do with this?"

There was a long silence before Cas could detect Sam's whispers.

"So? He practically did this to you Sam. If it weren't for him you could be better now. You could be healed and back on your feet. We could be back on the job, you wouldn't be—"

He didn't need to hear anything to know what Sam had said.

_Dying?_

"Shut up Sam. Shut the hell up. You're going to make it through this. Do you hear me? I'm not going to let you die little brother. I'm not going to let it happen. I'm not giving up on you."

More words were said by Sam.

"I don't give a shit about him right now. He isn't important. You are important Sam. You! I need to get you better, anything else doesn't matter."

For a while he could hear the small mumbles of Sam speaking. There were bits and pieces he picked up but nothing made sense. When he stopped Dean didn't speak. There were a few times Sam coughed but mostly it was silence.

Finally Dean spoke a lot softer now, "He messed up Sam. In a big way. I—man I forgave him for a lot of shit, a lot. Stuff that would get others sent to the grave—yet I kept on forgiving him. I just can't anymore Sam. I said I forgave him, but I just can't Sammy. I'll forgive him than he'll just turn right back around and do something else against what we say and I'll have to go right back to forgiving him. Because what? Why? Because he's Cas? Because he's like family to us? Sometimes that just doesn't cut it anymore Sam."

He didn't listen anymore. Castiel pulled the blankets back over his head, trying to get his breathing under control. It was no use. The tears came and didn't stop. The struggle to breathe became too much. He closed his eyes tight and pulled his knees up to his chest. It didn't help. Nothing would help this time.

….

"Hey Cas wh—whoa dude, you okay?"

"I'm fucking great." He mumbled taking another swing of liquid. He didn't know what it was, most likely whiskey since it was Dean's favorite, or perhaps scotch, his other favorite. It didn't matter though it all went to the same place and ended with the same result. Last time he was drunk he had been and Angel and could consume enormous amounts of alcohol without feeling a thing. Now, he'd had only three glasses of the brown drink and was beginning to see double of everything. His head was beginning to spin more than it had when he woke up that morning. And his stomach felt as though a bullet was eating its way out of him. But he didn't feel most of it. Overall the liquor was doing its job so he couldn't complain.

The silence wasn't half bad either. He'd been sitting in the main hall with the lights off thinking about nothing. Also thinking about a lot of things. Kevin was supposed to be in his room translating the Angel tablet. Dean had taken Sam out earlier that evening to get some air or something since he was feeling better. So Castiel was alone. He thought about calling Nelda and updating her about his few weeks back with the Winchesters. Quickly he decided against it. That would mean he would have to tell her how much he wished he was anywhere but with them. He would have to tell her how much they didn't want him there. He would have to tell her how he never kept his promise, only deepening his guilt and self-hatred as the days went by. Mostly she'd have to tell him that things would get better, that this was just a bump in the road of his recovery or something along the lines of that. He didn't want it—didn't need it. She was just being nice and being the kind of person she is probably felt obligated to say something to make Cas feel better. It was just a waste of her breath. There was nothing that would make Castiel feel better now.

So he drank.

There really wasn't much else to do and Dean had a nice collection of different bottles he thought were different forms of alcohol. He'd grabbed the one that had the most liquid in it and sat down, his back to the door. Castiel much preferred beer over whiskery or anything else that he'd drank. But again, it would do its job. By the time he heard someone's feet echoing off the walls he was pretty drunk already and didn't have time, or the energy, to hide the almost empty bottle. Not like it would matter anyway. None of them seemed to care what he did anymore. Castiel finished the last of the bottle in one big swallow before turning to face Kevin.

"Cas are you drunk?"

It's something he'd seen Dean do a thousand times over and somehow he'd manage to pick up on it. Castiel rolled his eyes at Kevin before turning his back on him to stare at the wall.

"It seems that way doesn't it?" He couldn't help but roll his eyes again. It was nice—feeling drunk. It was much more enjoyable than being sober and having so much to worry about. This way he'd only have to worry about tripping over something or being able to get another bottle without spilling it everywhere. Which reminded him—Castiel got up, ignoring Kevin's gaping, and went to grab another bottle of something Dean kept in the bunker. Somewhere along the way he'd remembered hearing Dean say something about never mixing your liquor, and from the writing on the bottle it wasn't the same thing he'd been drinking before, but Cas didn't care. He unscrewed the cap on the bottle and tossed most of it back. By the time he came up for air he felt as though his insides were on the verge of coming out. Still, he tossed it back again as he made his way back to his chair where Kevin was still following his movement with a look of confusion on his face. Cas didn't acknowledge him in the slightest, only took another pull from the bottle.

He wondered how much alcohol his new body could handle now that he wasn't an Angel. Maybe he'd test that later.

"Um—Dean called—said he had something he wanted your help with—" He was mumbling. It was slightly annoying.

"What does he want?" He took another swing of the bottle before turning around to face Kevin.

"One of the hunters he knows called him saying he has a case, but Sam still isn't up for one so he wanted you to go with him." Castiel knew he was in no shape to be hunting. He wasn't stupid enough to put his life, Dean's too, on the line while he was beyond drunk. Still, when had he ever said no to Dean? "He told me to tell you to pack a bag with some clothes and meet him outside in thirty minutes. Are you going to be okay to hunt?" For the third time Cas rolled his eyes as he stood, with less balance than before. He didn't say anything back to Kevin as he went into one of the spare bedrooms he had to clean out himself. There wasn't anything in there except a pile of blankets on the floor, the picture Nelda had given him, and his suitcase that had all his clothes in it. There weren't many things he owned anymore so he didn't need very much space; even though, it would be nice to have a slightly bigger room, perhaps even a bed, but that was asking for too. For the time being he'd sleep in a closet on the floor with only two shirts and a pair of pants to wear.

Castiel threw a shirt into the suitcase before trying to stuff his blanket in there as much as he could. It was the blanket Dean had kept on his bed the first night Cas had slept in the bunker. It was red and scratchy. It wasn't soft in the slightest. But it was warm. It made for a good security method. Castiel still hadn't stopped the habit of sleeping curled up in a ball under the blanket. It was his blanket and he wanted to take it with him in case he had another panic attack. It seemed to be the only thing to calm him down anymore when the nightmares would wake him up screaming, since Dean no longer did. That night he'd tried to calm Cas down was the last time that had happened. Actually, that had been the last time Dean was comforting, or kind to Cas in the last few months. They'd talk here and there, mostly about Sam and him gaining his strength back, or sometimes about pieces of the Angel tablet Kevin was able to translate, then there was what he wanted to eat for dinner, whether or not he needed his clothes washed, or something else entirely but that was about it. Dean never asked if the nightmares still occurred, although he was fairly certain Dean knew, the whole bunker knew because of his nightly screams and cries. He never asked if Cas was all right when he was clearly upset. He never asked anything personal.

It was for the best Castiel told himself. Things were still tense around the bunker. Things were still tense between him and everyone else. There was no need to add to the tension if he could help it.

Looking down at the half empty bottle in his hand, Castiel thought for a moment; debating whether or not to bring it. He remembered hearing Dean saying something about trying to cut back on alcohol or something along the lines of that. Still it could come in handy. Finally he stuffed it into the case and pulled on his trenchcoat. It was getting colder outside. He hoped it would snow. Cas always loved the snow even from before. There was something special about it that made it look magical. Yah, he hoped it would snow.

Castiel grabbed the case and made his way to the front of the bunker, trying his best to stay clear of Kevin. The prophet had hurried off to his room to translate more of the tablet; which reminded Cas, he should probably ask what Kevin had found. He thought he remembered him saying he found something but he probably was tuning it all out at that point. As suspected the wind was bitterly cold against his exposed skin. It wasn't at all pleasant. He tugged the coat tighter around his waist to find a little heat somewhere deep inside. Thankfully he didn't have to wait long. The Impala strolled up the drive, making a stop not far from where he was standing. The engine was cut and Sam hopped out, pulling his own jacket tighter around his chest. Dean followed suit. He had to admit, Sam looked a lot better. His cheeks had color back in them. His eyes weren't sunken in and lifeless anymore. And he looked like he hadn't skipped any meals lately. It was a great sight to see him upright again. But it was obvious he had a hard time walking too far. Every now and again he would have to lean up against something and get his breath back. It was progress.

Castiel stumbled up to the passenger door, nearly missing Sam's huge body in the process. Sam looked down at him with concern.

"Cas, are you drunk?"

Hadn't he already had this conversation before?

"Most likely." He grumbled before throwing the suit case into the back of the car.

"Man, you going to be okay on the hunt?"

"I don't need you getting me killed dude." Dean said, eyebrows raised.

"I'll just sleep it off." He whispered. Castiel pushed passed Sam, throwing himself into the seat. He could go for a nap anyway. The muffled sounds of Dean and Sam's conversation traveled through the closed doors. After a second he heard his name. Naturally, he thought. It was like Dean to talk about him behind his back instead of confronting him when he was literally sitting right beside them. After a quick goodbye, Dean entered the car and started the ignition. Some rock song started to play on the radio. Dean said nothing. He put the car in reverse and made his way back onto the highway. For half the trip neither one spoke. From the bumps in the road and the annoying music choices Castiel's head began to throb against his skull. Taking one last glance at Dean to see if he would say anything to him, which of course he didn't even acknowledge him, Cas turned towards the window to try and take that nap. The glass was cool against his forehead, which helped to seize the pain. His eyes became heavy as he let himself slip off into sleep.

….

It wasn't a surprise when Castiel woke himself up screaming again; another night, another nightmare, another restless sleep. It was predictable, common. But what was a surprise was when Dean turned his head to him to ask him if he was okay. Every night after Dean had talked him down from his anxiety ridden state he'd never asked him if he was okay. He never did anything more to help him through the dreams. So when Dean asked him Cas couldn't answer. He looked at Dean with his mouth slightly ajar, still panicked from the pictures that tormented him. All he could manage was a fragment of a shake of his head. He could hear Dean sigh. What that sigh meant, he had no idea. Maybe he didn't want to know. Maybe it would still be for the best if they were distant again. But Dean had other ideas.

"What—what happened, er, in the dream I mean? You wanna talk about it?" Again Cas was at a loss of what to say. Did he tell Dean? Did Dean even care? Was it just another quilt trips where he thought he should do something to make Cas feel better? The look in his eyes told something else. It was a look he gave Sam, almost always. He cared.

Castiel was baffled.

But relieved.

He missed Dean. He'd missed Dean since the last time he saw him before he fell. That was when he truly felt he'd lost him. The Dean he knew fell when Cas did. Since Sam had almost died, since he'd blamed it all on Castiel, since Crowley got away, he hadn't been the same. They've all seen a change in him over the past few months. His eyes grew colder along with his heart. He didn't seem to care about anything else but finding Crowley and keeping Sam alive; everything else was a waste of time. Which Castiel could understand. They needed to find Crowley before he started something else again and of course keeping Sam alive was most important. But, this wasn't Dean. This wasn't the Dean Castiel knew and cared for. He was becoming someone else entirely.

And he wasn't sure on how he felt about it.

"It…it was something different." He stopped talking to take a deep breath, calming his shaking voice. It was a surprise how talking about his feelings, about something so personal and intimate was so hard and confusing. "Usually they are all the same. I see myself falling, but not to Heaven, it's mostly Hell. Then I see my Brothers and Sister. They all fall along with me. They scream at me to help them but I can't. I never can. This one though, it's different." Light droplets of rain begin to appear on the windows. Castiel watches as a single droplet rushes down the side of the glass, just to disappear when hitting the black of the door. He begins again, "It was about, Balthazar. It's strange. That was years ago. Many other things have happened since then I hadn't really gotten the chance to morn his death properly. He was after all, my closest friend. Next to you and Sam that is. But, I keep seeing him as I kill him as though I'm watching it from someone else's perspective. I watch him say my name as I stabbed him with the Angel blade. There was no reason to do it. I thought there was at the time, but there wasn't. He was going against me, but the truth was, he was trying to help me. Yet I killed him." The rain started to come down in a hazy mess just as fast as it had started. There was more he wanted to say, but couldn't find the words to speak them. His throat felt closed off making it harder to breath. His head was pounding hard against his skull. With one eye on the road Dean turned his head to look at Cas. His mouth was curled up into an almost smile that said more than words could have. He knew what Castiel was feeling more than anyone.

"'Sokay Cas. Like you said, that was years ago. I know it's hard to forgive yourself for the things you've done in the past, but sometimes that's all we can do. Plus, it wasn't really you, sorta anyway. You were hopped up on power. All you could think about was stopping Raphael, which, I mean, was kinda important, and maybe you went about it the wrong way, you can't really blame yourself for what happened." He nodded. Cas supposed it was true. He didn't really feel like himself at that time, nor any other time after that. He'd been so many different versions of himself it was hard to tell who Castiel really was. Even now, he wasn't sure if he was himself. Cas turned his head to the side to watch Dean's fixed gaze on the road ahead. It was hard to see through the storm now.

"Dean," He began, not really sure how he wanted to ask. Dean raised an eyebrow in interest. "what—what did you dream of?" It wasn't really what he wanted to ask, but it would be enough for now. He wasn't even sure Dean would answer him.

"You mean, er, after Hell?" He looked over at Castiel with slightly wide eyes. Cas looked down, away from Dean, nodding a little. "No one really asked me that before. Mean, Sam always asked me what it was like, you know till he went there himself, but never how I remembered it when I was asleep. You know I read this article, or somthin', said _'Only happy people have nightmares, from overeating. For those who live a nightmare reality, sleep is a black hole, lost in time, like death.' _Got me thinking, I see a lot of crap. More than anyone should in a lifetime. I've seen Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory. I've seen Demons, Monster, and Angels. Hell, I've even seen the Devil himself. You would think nothing would scare me, I'd be incapable of fear. But, lately, that's all I've been feeling. After Hell, that's all I felt. But not from what happened down in the pit, from reality. I dreamt about the torturing down there, I dreamt about what Alastair did to me, about what I did to those souls, how I liked it. But that's not what scares me anymore. Reality, the future, the present; that scared the shit of out me. I know it doesn't make any sense, but sometimes your reality is your own personal Hell, and that's what scares us. Not the skeletons in our closet, not our demons, but the normal stuff. The ever day things we were used too before. We think we deserve the torture and the demons, Hell, and when we get something that doesn't have to do with any of it, we're scared. I was scared to be back. Relived…but scared…"

There was a look on Dean's face as he drove through the night. His eyes were long gone somewhere Castiel didn't want to imagine. He could see, for only a moment, how lost and torn apart Dean really was inside. He could see how broken and beaten he truly was. The pain and suffering he'd been through since his mother died all those years ago wore away at him gruesomely, leaving behind a man who was so far gone it was a miracle he was even upright. Dean was strong. Castiel knew that already, but now it was much more obvious. He'd taken so much, had so much thrown at him that he didn't deserve. It was making Cas mad just to think about it. This was a side hidden so far down inside Dean, he'd not even let Sam know about it. This was what Dean was feeling every hour of every day. His fist tightened up on the wheel, his eyes squinting now, as he leaned closer to the glass.

"Shit, this storm is getting bad. We need to stop soon." He mumbled.

And just like that the Dean Castiel so badly wanted to fix, wanted to comfort, was gone, in its place was the shielded Dean no one ever got past. They drove another mile in silence before Castiel spoke again.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For letting me in. I've never seen that side of you before Dean." He watched the rain beat done on the passing pavement as he spoke.

"Dude, you sound like a chick." He could hear the fakeness in Dean's laugh just as clear as the sound of the Impala's engine, or the rain outside.

"Whatever."

That was it. The moment was over and the old Dean was back. His eyes were blocked. His emotions guarded. They drove another two miles before he pulling off into a Royal Inn's just off the highway. There were no other cars in the parking lot making the place look deserted. Dean parked and jumped out, hurling himself towards the main office. Castiel followed suit. The office was quiet, since no one was behind the counter, and warm. There was old coffee on the coffee table, and only one chair in the place. Dean leaned against the counter and rang the small silver bell that was there. They waited until someone came. The guy looked to be in his seventies, balled, round, and tired. He had large bags under his eyes to prove that.

"I'd like to get a room." Dean said, pulling out his wallet. The man looked Dean up and down then changed his gaze back to Castiel, doing the same, then switching to Dean again.

"King bed?" He asked in a gruff monotone voice.

"What? No! Two doubles. Just, two doubles." He heard Dean grunt before shoving his fake credit card at the annoyed man.

"Yah sure." He mumbled under his breath, taking the card. He swiped it in the machine before handing it back to Dean. A few minutes later they had their key and were headed to the very back of the lot to their room. It reminded Cas of the motel he had found Dean and Sam in after leaving Nelda's. It had a round table, two beds with green blankets on them, a small TV, and a bathroom. Since they'd only be staying there for a few nights it didn't really matter what it looked like. All the way to the room, and even after they settled in, Dean was muttering to himself about the old man, sometimes something about Castiel, but mostly he ignored him. Cas placed his case on the bed closet to the door and began to try and remove the overstuffed blanket that was in there. Dean came up behind him, only then did he stop his complaining.

"Why'd you bring that?" He asked.

"Helps me sleep."

"Aww, you really are a baby in a trenchcoat." He turned over, giving out an enormous laugh that filled the small room with too much noise. Castiel only rolled his eyes and began to spread it over the bed. He would most likely not be getting any sleep tonight, even though he wanted nothing more. His hangover weighed down on him, pushing him closer to sleep. Before he could close up the case Dean already pulled out his bottle of Whiskey. "So you're a drunk now?" He asked, reading the label. "You got this from the bunker."

"Where else would I get it?" Castiel reached out, snatching the bottle from Dean's hand and placed it back in his suitcase. If he didn't feel like his insides were about to come out Cas would have taken a swing of the drink. Dean only shrugged. Castiel fell onto the bed, pulling the sheets over his head as he always did. At this point he didn't care if Dean was watching him, he tucked his knees to his chest tighter than normal. The sound of the storm carried into the room. The raindrops on the roof were loud against the metal. The thunder shook the motel. The lightning lit up the darkness.

….

He woke up a little less frightened than he normally did, which, he guessed, was a start. Maybe it was a sign the nightmares were getting better; his anxiety was getting better. When he finally managed to work through the headache and sit up he saw he was alone in the room. The light shining through the window was too bright on his sensitive eyes this morning to the point where Cas had to shove his head back under the blanket yet again. He pulled the blue fabric tight around his body and scurried over towards the table where he thought would be a note from Dean explaining where he went; he found nothing. Panic started to settle in then. He didn't think Dean would leave him there. He probably just went on with the case without Cas, to get more information or something. After what happened in the car the night before Dean wouldn't leave him. After what they went through for years, Dean wouldn't leave him. Still he couldn't stop his mind from wondering. What would he do if Dean did leave him here? Would he find his way back to the Men of Letters Bunker like he'd wanted to after he fell? Or would he move on with his life? Would he take that as the last hint that they in fact did not want Cas around anymore. If that were the case, what would he do with his life?

Just as the tears were about to form in his eyes the motel door swung open with a loud bang. Dean sauntered in carrying a brown bag and two cups of coffee. Castiel let out a huge sigh of relief. He placed the bag on the table before walking over to Cas, handing the cup over to him. After shrugging out of his leather jacket, Dean went to the bag. The coffee was black, the way Dean preferred. Usually Cas liked to add a spoonful of sugar to his, but he wasn't complaining. It was a physical reminder that Dean hadn't planned on leaving him; he'd just went to get coffee. He didn't mind drinking it black at that point. Dean pulled out two burgers. He passed one over to Cas before taking a huge bite out of his own.

"So, see you're finally up. Took you long enough, had to go out and do the research on my own." He managed through mouthfuls of burger.

"You never got around to telling me what this case was about."

"Cause you were smashed, wouldn't have 'membered it anyways." It shouldn't have, but it surprised Castiel that Dean managed to eat that burger in only four bites. "Demons. Two I think. They killed a family up on Hollow, the mother and father's bodies were missing so most likely those are their meat suits. Also, think they might be our lead to finding Crowley."

"Demons close to him?" Dean nodded, putting on a wide smile as he wiped away at the mustered that formed at the corners of his mouth. "And you think they are just going to tell us where he is?"

"Let's just say I'm skilled at getting to the truth." His eyes fell to the floor; his hands moving to the back of his neck.

"Torture." The word felt heavy on Castiel's tongue, almost like poison.

"Yah, well, we don't really have any other choice do we? I need to find Crowley; one less thing to worry about if I do." His arms tightened around his chest. Castiel noticed his hands stated to bawl up into fist. He forfeited the conversation. If Dean thought it was a good idea than that was good enough for Cas. He wasn't going to question him. "Oh, Kevin called, said he wanted to talk to you when we got back." His posture relaxed mildly at the change in topics. "Any idea what's that about?" Cas shook his head and placed his blanket back onto the bed before slipping into the bathroom. He could go for a hot shower.

The jets weren't as good as the ones in the bunker, nowhere near them to be honest, but the heat made up for it. With the heat on full blast, steam built up around him in a thick fog. It was delightful to wash away the filth from the motel room as best he could. He liked to think he could wash away the feeling Dean was giving him today, the events from his past that haunted him, or the hangover he seemed to still be dealing with. His head felt better under the heat. His stomach churned after he started to eat the burger. Cas shook the nausea away and stepped out of the shower. It wasn't long in the slightest but it would have to do. When he went back out into the room Dean was on his laptop, staring at it in confusion.

"What's wrong?" Cas asked, towel drying his hair.

"There was another murder. Another family similar to the one the demons killed." Cas pulled on a plain black tee-shirt and dropped the towel around his hips. Before Dean could turn around he was stuffing himself into a dirty pair of washed down jeans.

"Are we going to go check it out?" Dean turned to face Castiel with his eyebrows raised.

"Sure, I mean, you up for it? Or are you going to do bad cop again?" He joked. Castiel smiled but rolled his eyes at the memory.

"I'm sure I can manage this time. Do you still have my badge?" Dean nodded, pulling out a small box. He rummaged through it for a second before throwing the badge across the room to Cas. He didn't have his suit anymore so what he was wearing would have to be good enough. Dean quickly dressed in his only suit as Castiel shrugged on the oversized trenchcoat.

"I wanna know why they are here." Dean thought aloud as they drove down the highway towards town.

"Could it be a trap? Most demons know that you and Sam were trying to close the gates of Hell, and how you took Crowley and all." The roads were still swamped with the storm. The air around them was so thick you could cut it with a knife. The wind smelt of dirt and earth. It was relaxing at most, mysterious at least.

"It's possible. I wouldn't put it past them. Guess we'll find out."

The crime scene was a big flashing neon sign that it was a trap. There were no crime scene tapes telling people not to enter. There were no cop cars out front. There was nothing. If they hadn't known a family massacre had just happened there less than a day ago it would seem just like any other house on the street. There were kids playing on the sidewalks, people talking to one another from across their yards, men mowing, people walking their dogs, when just next door a mother, father, and two children lay dead. Castiel and Dean shared a quizzical look before they walked up to the front door. There were no lights on in the house and from what he could hear; no one was moving around inside either. Dean kneeled down in front of the door with his lock picking kit in hand. At first it seemed to be stuck; Dean twisted the lock three times before pulling it out and looking up to Cas.

"It's unlocked." He mouthed, pointing his head towards the door. Standing up, Dean pulled Ruby's knife from his waist band and leaned his back against the wall, the knife tucked safely at his side. Castiel mimicked his movements with his own Angel blade. Dean counted to three before opening the door. He expected an ambush or for a figure to stand in front of them, something, but nothing happened. Together they entered the isolated house, covering each other's backs while scouring the rooms. There were blood stains on the white carpet. There were some chairs that were knocked over, along with pictures and a vase of dead flowers, but other than that there didn't seem to be any evidence of the murder. Cas inhaled deeply. There were no traces of sulfur in the air that he could detect. Dean pointed to the dining room then back into what looked to be the kitchen. Cas parted from Dean's side and approached the room to his left. The table was up against the wall and all four chairs were smashed. Pictures were on the ground, glass scattering across the floor. Ahead he could hear Dean's movements in the kitchen. They met back in the living room a few seconds later having found nothing; no sulfur, no bodies, no demons.

"Dean…" Castiel turned around looking down the hallway towards the bedrooms. "What—"

"I know. I thought, they should be here…something—" Dean tucked his knife closer to his body as he went down the hall, looking inside the different rooms. From the look on his face he didn't find anything either. They met back in the living room after the last room was searched. If only Castiel was still an Angel, he could sense them, known if they were still there, something, anything at that point would be enough.

"What the hell is going on?" He heard Dean say from under his breath as he went over to the window. He swiped his finger across the edge, but it came away clean.

"Do you think it was just a human? Or spirit maybe?"

"I thought, I mean there have been demonic omens popping up in this town for the past few weeks, they should be here."

"Dean, I think we should leave. This isn't right, something isn't right."

"Probably would have been the smart thing to do, don't you think?" At the same time, Castiel and Dean spun around to face the front door where two women stood, both eyes black as the night. Behind them the front door swung shut; the huge bookshelf that was in the living room slide in front of it. They both smiled at the men before their eyes went back to normal.

"Wow, Dean Winchester and Castiel, here in the flesh. I mean, I'm a little star struck." Dean tried to rush the blonde demon, but only resulted in him getting pinned up on the far end wall. The demon with the red hair turned her gaze back on Castiel, her smile widening to the point where her face seemed to split in two.

"I don't even know where to begin. Do we start with Dean wanting to close the gates on us," She walked past Castiel and up to Dean who followed her every move. Castiel only stood in his defense position, frozen in place. He watched as the red head made her way back over to him. "Or you, Castiel, Angel of the Lord, human. And I hear, it's all your fault darling. You're the cause of all the Angel's falling. Wow, I must give you major props for that one Cassie. Great job." Cas tried to lunge forward but his feet were actually frozen to the ground. The blonde demon winked at him. "What that must be like for you, it's your own personal Hell isn't it? Before I, or any other demon for that matter, couldn't read what was going on in your pretty little mind, but now, now you're an open book. I can see all the pain, the self-loathing, the guilt you feel inside Castiel. And I gotta say, it is beautiful." Her eyes flickered over to Dean once again before turning back to Cas. "But, I can't help but wonder; what else do you hide in there? Hmm?" She lifted her hand to his cheek. He tried to shrug her off but his whole body was paralyzed. "There must be so much in there, so many secretes. As an Angel, that Vessel of yours was already in use, but now it's all yours. All for the taking. You don't have one of those tattoo thingies that the Winchesters have do you?"

"Cas—" The blonde demon pushed Dean farther back into the wall, cutting him off.

Before Castiel knew it the demon was cramming itself down his throat. The taste of sulfur was heavy on his tongue, the taste of evil burning his gums. The demons roars filled up the small room around them making it impossible to hear anything else. His throat burned. His eyes burned. His whole body burned as though it was on fire. He began to lose control over his body. His fist clenched at his side without his knowledge. He could feel it now. He could feel it tearing away at his memories. The black smoke was almost gone. It was almost entirely in him now. The roars started to lighten up. Someone in the distance he heard Dean screaming something.

"Et Secta Diabolica—" _Groans._ "Omnis Congregatio" _The sounds of wood crunching._ "Omnis Legio, Omnis Incursio Infernalis Adversarii" _The demons roars started up again._ "Omnis Spiritus" He could feel it now. The demon was leaving his body. The demon was being expelled from him. As it began to leave it pushed around in his mind, clawing at anything it could find. The pain was excruciating. He could no longer see, only blackness filled his vision. He could no longer breathe. His lungs burned with the lack of oxygen. Somewhere in the distance he heard one last word from Dean. "Exorcizamus!" With that the demon was pushed from his body and sent back to the person it was possessing before. He heard loud grunts and roars. He heard fighting and clashing. For a second he thought his body was sent into the wall, but he couldn't be sure. The near possession left him unable to move anything. It left him unable to speak, call for Dean, to breathe, to think, to do anything but lie on the ground.

Castiel wasn't sure how much time had passed since the demon was expelled, but his vision started to clear. His head began to throb a little less and motion was back in his arms and legs. Cas sat up just in time to see Dean plunge Ruby's knife in the red haired Demon's side. He let the body fall to the ground next to the blonde demon. Dean looked up to see Castiel and sprinted over to his side in a second.

"What was that?" His voice sounded slurred to him.

"Reverse exorcism. Learned it from Sam. You okay?" Castiel shook his head as he ran his fingers through his head. The demon had done something to his mind when it was inside him. He could feel it clawing away at his brain. "Cas, you with me?"

"Yah Dean, I'm, yah." He slurred. It felt as though he was drunk again. He could still taste the sulfur in his mouth. His body still burned at the touch. "We should, we should go—"

"Yah, okay, Cas, yah, let's go, okay? Can you stand?" He tried to get on his feet, but ended up stumbling back into Dean's grip. A chuckle sounded in his ear as Dean hauled him up to a standing position, supporting his weight fully on Dean. They trudged out to the Impala, ignoring the bodies on the floor. They would probably have to call that one in later. After they were settled in the car Dean made a complete U turn towards the motel. "You still didn't answer me Cas, how you feelin'? What'd that demon bitch do to you?" Castiel laid his head against the cool window and closed his eyes.

"I don't know. I felt it in my mind, and when you expelled her with the—what'd you say, reverse exorcism?—she just started to claw at anything she could while being forced out. It was painful. Still is."

"Could tell, you were screaming bloody murder dude." Cas opened one eye to look over at Dean.

"I don't remember that. What happened, how did you kill them both?"

"That one bitch started to cram herself down your throat, not really a pretty sight considering she pretty much molested you while doing it. Anyway, I panicked, and the only thing I could really remember was the reverse exorcism. Though I'd give it a try, yah know, couldn't hurt. Seemed to work. She started to go back into the other body and at the same time, the blonde one started to spaz. She dropped her hold on me and I was able to stab her first. After the other was back in the original meat suit she flung you into the wall while you were screaming. Then you went silent and by that time I had her by the throat and, I guess you saw after that."

Castiel closed his eyes again and tried to remember, but all that came to mind was the sulfur, the chocking, the not being able to breathe, the pain. He couldn't remember screaming after the demon was out; he couldn't remember anything really after the demon was out. He could remember however the feeling of the thing clawing away at his subconscious, at his memories, at anything it could get its hands on. If he would have been fully possessed it would have been catastrophic. There were so many secretes about Heaven, about the Winchesters, no demon should even think about possessing. If the demon had gotten anything Castiel knew and took it back to Crowley they were as good as dead. Cas thought about his brothers and sisters. Surely they had to be smart enough to know about the anti-possession tattoos or some form of charm. They knew just as much as Cas did, more in fact. Demons knew about the fall now, they knew that the Angel's would be right there for the taking, as the red haired demon put it. They were all in danger now.

Dean pulled into the parking lot of the motel and helped Castiel out and back into their room. As Dean talked on the phone to Sam, then the police—telling them about the bodies in the house—then to someone Castiel didn't know, he sat on his bed with his blanket securely wrapped around his body. The half empty bottle of whiskey lay in front of him, just waiting for him to take it. Cas did. He downed the other half before Dean even got off the phone. When he did Dean went over to his bag, pulled out a small orange bottle, and came over to sit beside Cas.

"Here," He handed it over to Cas. "When I got back from Hell, I had trouble sleeping if you remember, and, uh, sometimes I would lash out at Bobby and Sam because the lack of sleep. So one night, just to shut me up, Bobby gave me these. They're sleeping pills. At first they were pills from Heaven itself, thought I'd never sleep without them again, till I just stopped taking them and I realized I could. But that's not the point. Point it, they work and you could use them. Knock you right out. Take one before bed and you'll sleep like a baby." Dean bumped Cas on the shoulder before heading into the bathroom. He could hear the sounds of the shower being turned on from behind the door. Castiel turned the bottle over, sending five small white pills into the palm of his hand. Looking back at the closed bathroom door to make sure it was closed, Castiel took two of the white pills and swallowed them dry, putting the rest back in the bottle. He tucked the bottle safely in his suitcase before pulling the blankets over his head and closing his eyes. He doubted anything would come of taking the pills, but it was worth a try.

….

_Addiction_

_Noun_

_The fact or condition of being addicted to a particular substance, thing, or activity._

_Denial_

_Noun_

_The action of declaring something to be untrue._

It'd been over a month since he'd last had a nightmare. The one regarding Balthazar was the last he could remember being woken up from. Mostly he didn't dream anything anymore. When he slept it was just blackness, then he woke up. Sometimes he would see things from his past; a pair of wings, a familiar face, someone's Heaven he had come across before, but nothing more than that. It was unsettling to see them, just another reminder of his mistakes, but he didn't wake up screaming anymore. He didn't have panic attacks anymore, and he could even sleep without the use of that blanket.

Dean was right.

Those pills were a gift sent from Heaven.

Sam continued to get better with each passing day. His strength had returned to the point where him and Dean would go on more and more cases, farther and farther away from the bunker. Sometimes Cas would go with them, other times he would stay behind with one of the many books the bunker offered and a bottle of Jack, his new favorite. Kevin never left. He rarely even came out of his room. If he did it was just to tell them something he learned from the tablet, or to eat one. They almost never talked. He could still see the hatred in Kevin's eyes when he looked at Cas. It made it difficult to carry on a conversation with him. So Castiel stayed clear of that side of the bunker.

Now, Castiel was lounged out on one of the sofa's with an old leather bound book written in Luwian. Most of his knowledge of that language had disappeared with his loss of memories, but there were still some things he could identify if he concentrated. On the floor beside him was another empty bottle of Jack. Sam and Dean were hauling in their bags of dirty clothes from another trip down south; they said they were hunting more demons or a spirit, something Cas couldn't remember. Sam sat down in the chair in front of him in a sweaty, out of breath mess. He eyed the book in Castiel's hands, then down at the empty bottle, then back up at Cas.

"Been busy?" He asked with a laugh.

"You could say that. Can hardly read anything in it anyway." With a heartless sigh, Cas closed the book and placed in on the floor. There was no use. The words weren't going to start making sense to him no matter how long he looked at it. Half the stuff in the bunker was useless to him; his newly human brain just couldn't remember all the languages he once knew.

"Cas, what's up with the—" Dean came into the room, sending Sam silent. He walked over to the bookshelf farthest on the East wall. A person could cut the tension in the room with a knife if need be. Dean and Cas hadn't talked much since their last days at the motel. Ever since he was back around Sam he'd been acting like Cas didn't exist; only answering him when he had a question, or asking him to do something, never anything personal.

"Hello boys." All three of them jumped from their positions, turning around to face the familiar voice of the one person they had been looking for.

"Crowley…" He heard Sam say is shock. He stood just outside the main room. His face was neutral as it always was.

"Sam, Dean—" His eyes turned to Cas as a smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Cas. So good to see you guys here together." Dean moved closer to Sam, putting himself in front of his brother. Sam seemed to be at a loss of words.

"You can't even get in here. It's warded against demons." Dean spat, grabbing Ruby's knife from the waistband of his pants. Crowley noticed and just rolled his eyes. He moved closer into the room, Dean followed his every movement.

"Please, you must be forgetting who I am. You can put that away squirrel. I'm not here to fight."

"Then why are you here?" He heard his own voice speak. Crowley turned to him and began to clap slowly.

"I can't thank you enough, Cas. You deserve a metal. What you did to the Angels, even I couldn't do something so—evil. Good on ya' Cassie." His eyes burned into Cas like fire. His blood began to boil with blind hatred. Castiel didn't realize he was stepping closer to Crowley till Dean was pulling him back by his shoulders. "Better listen to your boyfriend, love. You don't have any of your Angel powers anymore. Thank you, by the way, they were a bit annoying if I do say so myself."

"What do you want Crowley?" Castiel asked through his teeth. Dean looked back over at Cas once before turning back to Crowley.

"I want to make an offer. Or really, I have a request."

"And why should we do anything you ask?" Sam crossed his arms tight over his chest as he spoke through a tight jaw.

"Because we'll all benefit from it. And you need me." Crowley moved one of the chairs over to him, sitting down with his legs outstretched. "If I remember correctly, Sam, you had a little run in with a certain knight right before you didn't cure me, am I correct?" Dean's head snapped around to look at his brother fidget.

"What about her?" He asked , running his hands through his hair.

"You overheard the conversation we had didn't you? She wants my crown. I can't let that happen so I need to hire a few apes to get rid of her for me."

"You, The King of Hell, want to hire three humans to kill a demon you could have wiped off the map with a swipe of your finger? What am I saying you're Crowley, of course you do. You don't want to get your hands dirty." Dean went to the back wall and leaned against it, never breaking eye contact with the demon. "Unless, you can't get rid of her?" He said with a raised eyebrow.

"Caught me. She's a knight. Handpicked by the Devil himself. Against her, I would have no chance, that's why I need you three to get rid of her." He spat. Dean seemed to relax then.

"Why should we? I say let her kill you. One less demon to worry about."

"Dean, can I talk to you?" Sam pushed his brother out of the room and out of earshot. Crowley watched them go before looking back at Castiel.

"So you're officially human now?"

"And apparently you're into small talk." Castiel followed Sam's earlier movements and crossed his arms tight over his chest.

"Without your Angel mojo you can't fight me off anymore Castiel. I still have unfinished business with you." Cas crossed the room in two quick strides, getting right up in Crowley's face. He couldn't help but smile at the situation as he searched his face for any signs of fear, but came up blank. Crowley was a better actor than he gave him credit for.

"Then what are you waiting for? I'm right here. Why not get it over with?" Crowley rolled his eyes and seemed to get closer to Cas' face.

"I'm not going to kill you, idiot." Cas continued searching his face for some intel on what the demon was thinking.

"So what, torture? Is that it?"

"No, even better. I'm going to let you live." Cas took in a deep breath and began to back away from Crowley, but he grabbed Cas' arm before he could move too far. "You want to die Castiel. Your guilt is eating away at you till there will be nothing left in the end. You can't take it. That's why you're high as a kite, love. That's why you drink yourself into oblivion every night." Cas pulled against Crowley's grip but didn't get anywhere. "Torturing you wouldn't be as fun as watching you torture yourself; watching you kill yourself pill by pill, drink by drink, until finally—" He cut himself off with a wide grin. He tightened his grip on Castiel's wrist making him let out a slight yelp in pain. "No, I'm not going to kill you Cas. That would be letting you off easy." He snipped.

"Let him go Crowley. Now." He heard Dean's yells from behind them. Crowley stared into Cas' eyes a little longer before releasing his wrist. Castiel held it to his chest as he turned away from the demon and made his way into the other room. Tears were stinging his eyes with the pain. It felt as though he had snapped it in two. Dean and Sam came up behind him a moment later.

"You okay Cas?" Sam asked. Castiel shook his head, unable to turn around and face the brothers. They heard everything Crowley had said.

"Cas, what the hell man?" Still he didn't turn. "Cas? Look at me." Dean spun him around by his shoulders to face them. "What was he talking about?"

"Doesn't matter. There are more important things to be discussing right now. What are you planning to do with him?" He lowered his wrist and straightened his back.

"Don't change the subject. Cas, answer me."

"No. Dean, just drop it. It's not important. Just tell me what the hell you are planning to do with Crowley." He spat, avoiding both their shocked looks.

Sam coughed, "Uh, we're planning on helping him."

"Why?" He questioned, still staring at the floor.

"Because he was right about one thing. Abaddon is worse than he is. He's still a huge asshole, but he's helped us before. I would rather have him on our side than her. " Cas nodded his head in agreement and followed the brothers back into the other room. Crowley hadn't moved an inch in their absence.

"Okay Crowley. Where is she?" Castiel stayed back, leaning against the wall, just observing the conversation. Every so often Dean would turn his head to look back at him.

"Don't know. I have a few of my men keeping an eye out for her. So far things have been quiet. You know, since you burned her and all." He saw Dean mouth the word _nice_ to his brother, smiling lightly.

"Then why did you come here now if you don't even know where she is?" Crowley stood from his chair and began to walk around the Winchesters.

"I just needed to know if you three were on my side. Don't worry, when she comes out of hiding I'll send for you." In a blink Crowley disappeared.

"Son of a bitch. I don't like the idea of working for him again." Dean grumbled through clenched teeth.

"That and how he could even get in here."

"Crowley man. Don't think for a second he won't try to pull something over on us."

….

Castiel shuffled across the floor towards the door at the end of the hallway. The lights were off in the room and the door was closed all the way. He was probably asleep considering the time, but knowing Dean, he would most likely just be laying on his bed, just thinking. He gently tapped on the wood and waited. There was no answer so he decided to enter the room. Dean was in fact laying on top of his bed with his hand covering his face; snoring loudly.

"Dean…" He whispered, inching closer to the sleeping man. "Dean…" He jumped forward, hand outreached for the gun that wasn't there.

"Christ Cas. What the hell man." He wiped his hands over his face with an exhausted hum. "What do you want?"

"I just—I couldn't sleep—and Crowley, what he said, it's been keeping me up all night. And I remember you once said you'd always be there for me, and I just, I need someone to talk to." Castiel let out a low whine. Dean's eyes widened.

"Sure Cas. 'Course I'll always be here." Castiel went over to the bed and laid down beside Dean on his back. At first he just stared up at the darkened ceiling, not even sure why he was in there in the first place. There were so much he needed to say, so much they needed to talk about but whenever he tried to form the words he just swallowed them back in fear. Dean just waited. He laid back beside Cas with his head tilted towards him, ready to listen to what Cas was supposed to be saying.

"It's not really true you know." He finally managed to find his voice.

"What isn't?"

"Crowley said I wanted to die. It's not really true. Yes, I feel guilty for what I did to Heaven. Yes, I feel guilty for not being able to help Sam when he was sick. Hell, I feel guilty for so many things I can't even name half of them anymore Dean, but I don't want to die. I don't think anyway. I mean, where would I go? I don't have a soul, I don't have my grace. When I die, where will I go?" It was a mystery as of where all this was coming from, but when he started Cas just couldn't stop. "Truth is, I just don't belong here. Anywhere. Even here," He turned his head to look Dean in the eyes. "Even here. I feel as though you and Sam just put up with me. And you don't have too. You shouldn't have too. I've done so much to both of you; lying, spying, trying to kill you, what I did to Sam, leviathans, sometimes I just think it would be best if I were dead."

"Cas—"

"No, don't Dean. Don't try to defend me. You can't."

"Why was he saying you were high? The drinking, I see it Cas, but what? You're on drugs now?"

"Just those pills you gave me. They keep me asleep at night and I don't relive those nightmares anymore. I, uh, finished that bottle about two weeks ago, I, uh, had to go get more of them."

"Cas, man, you got to stop. That bottle was a six months' supply, only for nights when you really needed them. I get it, trust me I do, you would do anything to not have those dreams, but Cas, this is dangerous. You have to stop it." Castiel shook his head defeat.

"I know Dean. I don't want to see those images, every damn time I close my eyes." Dean leaned up on his elbow facing Castiel. He searched his face for signs of what he was thinking but came up empty handed. Cas tilted his head towards Dean and stared into those all too green eyes. "Can I ask you something?" He nodded. "A few months ago—why did you kiss me?" Dean's body became still. His shoulders tensed up. His pupils dilated in the darkness where Cas could no longer see the green. His breathing came out in short puffs like he was having trouble getting air in his lungs. For a second he thought Dean wasn't going to answer. For a second he wished he hadn't opened his mouth at all, even though that was all he could think about lately; why? He had no idea. It wasn't like he'd ever thought that way about Dean, or anyone really. Angel's weren't programed to fall in love, or feel the need to find comfort in someone's touch the way he was craving with Dean now. But he wasn't an Angel anymore. Castiel was human which meant dealing with the urges humans dealt with. He craved the feeling of another humans touch. He craved contact against his skin. It was entirely new to him; the effect it had on him. His cheeks blushed a bright red whenever Dean was around. His heart started to speed up. His blood felt like fire running through his veins. It wasn't completely unpleasant, but it wasn't something he wanted to live with for however long it was supposed to last.

"Uh," He turned around on his back again and stared at the ceiling. In the darkness Cas could still see the creep of a blush on Dean's cheeks. "I wouldn't really—I mean—it wasn't like it was, uh, a real kiss or anything—" Cas watched his mouth stumble with the words he tried to form but ended up swallowing them back down.

"But why?"

"I don't know Cas. Maybe because I was in a bad state or something. 'Cause I wanted too. Isn't that enough?" He turned his face towards Cas, something itching on the tip of his tongue, but as soon as he looked into Castiel's blues those words were gone as well. Castiel nodded against the pillow, ruffling his hair up into more pointed spikes.

"Dean? Can I ask you for a favor?" Dean sucked at his bottom lip imperceptibly, leaving behind a small shine against them. Castiel followed his tongue with his eyes as it traced against the tender skin.

"'Course Cas." He breathed.

"Can—can you do it again? Please—I—please Dean—" For a moment he seemed paralyzed by the request. Cas was about to give up and turn his head right when Dean leaned in and brushed his lips over Cas'. It was rougher than their last encounter, but still it was as though it wasn't even real. Their lips barely touched, mostly just the space between them that caused the pressure. Dean was unsure of himself, Castiel mostly unsure of Dean. He didn't want to pressure him into anything Dean didn't want to do. He didn't want Dean's affection out of pity. He wanted the real thing. He wanted to be kissed by Dean the way Dean wanted to kiss, not the way he felt obligated too. Then Dean pushed in harder as he sucked in a deep breath, stealing Castiel's thoughts away. Dean pushed his hands under Cas' head, grabbing a handful of black hair. Cas pushed into Dean's touch, surprised by the forcefulness of Dean's want. He nudged at Castiel's lower lip, inching it open if only a little. When their tongues met chills ran down Cas' spine, sending goose bumps all throughout his body. It was a mess of tongue, teeth, and saliva, completely foreign to Cas. Even when he had kissed Meg, or Daphne it was nothing compared to the way Dean kissed him now. His hands were everywhere; in Dean's hair, on his back, on the side of his face. He recreated this man on top of him, he knew every inch of his body and soul, yet he wanted more; he needed more. When Dean finally pulled away from Cas, his pupils were blown, his cheeks a blood red, his breathing was erratic. Castiel stared up at him with wide eyes, curious, hungry eyes. He needed Dean now.

"Cas—I—" Castiel closed his eyes and tried to get his own breathing back to normal. He knew it was too good to be true.

"It's fine Dean. You don't have too." Another soft touch of lips on lips sent Cas' eyes open. Dean was watching him as he hovered over Castiel's face.

"And if I want too?" Castiel squirmed under Dean, looking anywhere but those wild eyes.

"You don't. I know you Dean." He leaned in again, placing another; harder kiss to Castiel's lips.

"Then you don't know me as well as you think you do." He mumbled, close to Cas' ear now. A light bite on his earlobe sent Cas' hips bucking up onto Dean. That earned a low chuckle from somewhere deep in Dean's ear. "Easy tiger." Hands found their way down the sides of Castiel's body till they were at his hips, holding them down against the sheets. Dean's fingers played at the edge of Cas' pants, pulling them down ever so slightly. Castiel pushed his hands under Dean's cotton shirt, feeling the firm skin that was there. His hand inched up his body towards his shoulder. Locking eyes with Dean, Castiel grabbed onto it, making Dean's whole body seize up. It was easy to feel the scare that still sat there. No matter how many times he healed Dean, he always made sure that his handprint always stayed behind. It was his mark on Dean's soul, his stamp that he was the one who remade Dean. Cas pushed up Dean's sleeve to show off the light pink outline of his hand imbedded into his flesh. Cas placed his own over the mark in the exact way he remembered doing all those years ago in Hell. Flashbacks of that day rained in on him on impact. Dean remained unmoved, just watching as Cas leaned in, leaving wet kisses along the fingertips of his mark. A loud groan escaped Dean's lips when Cas sucked in part of the flesh into his mouth. He tasted of dirt and sweat, something he could always identify Dean with. Cas moved up onto his collar bone, sucking at whatever he could get his mouth on before stopping back at Dean's lips.

"I remember that day clearly." He said softly, biting at Dean's already kiss swollen bottom lip.

"I remember a bright white light. That's all." He trailed kisses up Deans cheeks and back down to his chin.

"That was me. That was my Grace." Dean pushed Castiel back, panting a bruising kiss to his lips as he tugged at Cas' shirt. He had to agree. There was way too much clothing separating skin. The longer he waited the more the urge for skin on skin contact became more desperate. Both their shirts fell somewhere behind them. Pants fell to the floor beside the bed. The moment he felt Dean's heat against his body an exhilarating sensation ran through his veins making it nearly impossible to keep his eyes open. Dean mouthed at his chest, moving up and down his stomach before stopping at one of his nipples. He took it in his mouth and sucked and bit and Cas felt as though he would be sent over the edge at just the sounds Dean was making alone. He tried to find his words to tell Dean to stop but nothing more than a squeak came out. Dean took it as a sign of approval and moved onto the next bud. Castiel let out a moan that rang through the silent air. Dean inched back up Castiel's body, taking his leaking cock in his hand, giving in two good strokes. His pressed his lips against Cas' before separating again. He was making Cas come undone beneath him into one big withering mess.

"Cas—do you want—" He didn't even have to read Dean's mind to know what he was going to say.

"Yes, Dean, Dean please—Dean—"

"Okay, I got you Cas—" He pumped Castiel's length in his hands a few more times before moving from on top of him towards the bedside table. He grabbed a condom and a bottle of lube before straddling Castiel's thighs once again. He didn't want to know where Dean got the lube; he'd always thought Dean was straight. It didn't matter. All that mattered was having Dean inside him; now. He heard the sound of the condom wrapper being opened and then the sound of the lube bottle being opened. Dean coated two fingers in lube. Cas motioned his legs apart, giving Dean better access. He pushed one finger inside Cas at a time. It burned for a second before disappearing into pleasure. He moved slow, gentle even, scissoring in and out of him. Castiel grabbed at the already sweat soaked sheets as Dean hit his prostate before slipping in a second finger. It burned more than the first but instantly dissolved into a sweet, sweet sensation.

"Dean—I need—I need you too—"He shut his eyes hard as one finger brushed up against his prostate again. Dean removed his hand from Cas and hovered back over the withering man. Cas was breathing hard now, wanting more than anything for Dean to just get on with it. He moved his hand down to his neglected dick, only to have Dean smack it away with a tender grin. He lowered his mouth to Cas' for one more wet kiss before pushing into him. Cas' hips bucked up in response, taking even more of Dean in then already was. It took him a minute to gain a steady pace. Cas met Dean's thrust every time. The feel of Dean inside him was more than he thought it would be. The only sounds in the room were the coaptation of their bodies joining as one with the sounds of 'fucks' and 'shit'. Every now and again Dean would bite out Cas' name through gritted teeth, making his orgasm that much closer. Not faltering in pace, Dean reached one hand down to rap around Cas' cock, giving it a hard squeeze before meeting in with the rhythm of his hips. With every scream that threatened to escape his lips Dean leaned down to mouth them away, one hard kiss at a time. In mere seconds his vision was filtered white. Fire flushed out of his body as his come exploded onto Dean's hand and his stomach. When he opened his eyes Dean was forcing his own open as his own orgasm ran its course through his whole body. His hips moved irregularly against his own as he milked every ounce of come out of Cas. When he could finally breathe again, Dean pulled out of Cas, removing the condom, tying it off and throwing it into the wastebasket beside the bed. Long after their hearts settled into their regular rhythms, they lay side by side; the come still on their skin hardening with each passing minute.

Castiel sat up, ignoring the white stains on his stomach, put on his clothes and made his way out of Dean's room. He didn't call after Castiel. He didn't ask him to stay. Cas left without another word, making his way blindly through the dark corridors of the bunker towards his closet. He sat down on the blanket Dean had given him months ago, starring at the picture Nelda had given him. How something could feel so right, so natural, one minute and a mistake the next confused Cas more than he would ever know. His body betrayed him when he thought back on what had happened in the confines of Dean's room. He could still feel the press of their lips together. He could still taste Dean's skin between his lips. The come still hardening on his stomach was an all too real reminder of what had just happened. His eyes hung low, drained of energy after what had to be the best orgasm of his life. Cas laid down under the blue fabric, still thinking of Dean's pleas that he not take those pills anymore. He wanted to listen. He wanted to be clean. He wanted to do anything Dean asked him, but they helped. He hadn't had nightmares since he started to take them.

Still, when had he ever said no to Dean?

….

_Dean_

_Dean was tied to a rack._

_Dean had no skin left on his body._

_Dean was drained of any will he could possibly have left in that soul._

_He was screaming out for Sam._

_He was screaming out for anyone._

_The mission still rang clear in Castiel's mind. _

_Dean._

_He had to save Dean. _

_Alastair began to carve right in front of Castiel. _

_He carved away at anything that was there, anything that was left inside Dean. _

_Dean whispered something through the pain._

_Alastair didn't stop. _

_Castiel moved closer to hear._

_Cas._

_Cas._

_Cas._

_He was whispering his name._

_Cas._

_Cas. _

_Cas._

_Help me._

_He didn't. _

_He couldn't._

_His Grace moved back on instinct. _

_He moved farther away from Dean, moving back towards the surface, leaving the broken shell of a once strong man to be burned and tortured till nothing remained._

_Dean cried out for him._

_He ignored it._

_He ignored Dean._

_He said no._

_He couldn't help him. _

_There was nothing he could help anymore._

_Dean was a lost cause._

….

Castiel woke himself up by the sound of his own screams; high pitched, pained, calling out for someone who wouldn't be there for him. He shot forward, a blanket of sweat covering his forehead, running down into his open mouth. The screams still haunted the air in the small closet. For a second he thought someone would come in, at least to see if he was okay, but no one came. He sat there still in the closet, catching his breath as the memory flooded his brain.

He never told Dean. He never told Dean how, at that moment, the moment he first laid eyes of Dean in Hell, he'd been scared. He had felt his first wave of human emotion when he saw him on the rack, being carved into oblivion. Castiel was scared seeing someone so worth saving, seeing someone who saved so many people, not having a single person in the world to finally come and save him. Castiel turned back. He felt as though he wasn't worthy enough to help Dean. For a split second he had turned his back on Dean, to return to Heaven and have someone else do what he felt he couldn't. He had said no to Dean Winchester. Castiel never told him.

Cas stood with a little sway in his step and emerged from the closet. He stumbled back onto the door at how bright the morning light was. The bunker was quiet. There wasn't the sound of Kevin turning pages, whispering to himself from his room just down the hall. There wasn't the sound of Sam typing at his computer, hunting for their next case. There wasn't the sound of Dean flipping through the many pages of one of the many books he liked to scavenge through. The only sound came from Cas' bare feet walking towards the main room where they should have been. At first look the room seemed to be empty, but when he walked further into it he saw Sam was laying sprawled out on the couch with his hand covering his face; Kevin sat in the chair beside him. His head snapped up when Cas approached.

"What's going on? Where's Dean?"

"He went out to get some medicine. Sam's not feeling well again." Cas looked over at Sam and noticed his skin had a sleek shine of sweat covering it and his whole body was shaking in the slightest.

"Is he okay?" Kevin shook his head.

"No. It started around six this morning. He started to throw up blood again. And he passed out; Dean's been trying to wake him up ever since, but nothings worked. Cas, I heard you, screaming I mean—you okay?" Castiel kept his eyes locked on Sam's shaking body, his whole body felt frozen in time. They thought that Sam was getting better, just to have this curve ball thrown back at them.

"It's not important. I just need to talk to Dean."

"Cas—you were really busy after the demon case in Hollow, I never got a chance to tell you what I found in the Angel Tablet." His head turned towards Kevin, eyes widen in anticipation. "Sorry, it's not a solution to the Grace situation, but maybe it'll help. It said that the spell consists of three things; the death of a Nephillim, the bow of a Cupid,"

"Yah, I know, and my Grace. I was there."

"And the Grace of an Angel that's in love with a human." He spit out right before Castiel turned to leave. His body stilled, becoming ridged and tense. The night he and Dean spent together a few weeks ago, every minute of it, every kiss, every word passed from one to the other, sparked in his memory. "Cas, you love Dean, don't you?" He turned on his heel, getting right up in the scared prophets face. He may not be an Angel anymore, but he sure as hell could make Kevin cower in fear.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Don't mention this to Dean, he won't go as easy on you as I am." He spat the words as if they were bile in his mouth. Just as he lets go of the prophets rumbled tee shirt the front doors of the bunker opened with a loud bang to the back wall. Dean rushed in holding a plastic bag of stuff and makes his way over to sit beside Sam.

"Heya Sammy." His voice was low, only meant for Sam to hear. Kevin backed away from Cas and walked back towards his room. Castiel stayed watching Dean care for Sam. "Look, I got you some pills, supposed to help with the pain. And some soup and tea. Chick at the store said it's 'supposed to help you sleep or some shit like that." He said with a humorless laugh. "I'm going to put on a pot for you okay? Just, rest." With a light squeeze to Sam's arm Dean strode towards the kitchen. Castiel followed him hesitantly. He grabbed a pot from somewhere and turned on the stove, placing the contents of the can into it to cook. When he turned Dean stopped in his tracks when he saw Cas.

"Dean, I need to talk to you." He was already shaking his head before the words were even out of his mouth.

"Not now Cas. Just, I'm busy. Later." He walked around Castiel to one of the cupboards for a bowel.

"Then when Dean? You haven't even looked at me since—"

"Keep your mouth down wouldja' not everyone has to know." He hissed.

"Dean, it's important. Please—"

"Not now Castiel! I don't know if you know this or not, but just because you say 'please' doesn't mean you get your way. Why don't you go find a bottle of Jack and bother someone else for five minutes?"

"Fuck you." Dean turned around to talk over his shoulder, one of his famous half smiles playing at the corners of his lips.

"Did you forget? You already did." Castiel rushed forward and slammed his fist into the side of Dean's face. Both of their skins split on impact; Dean's body fell to the floor, his face coming in contact with the side of the stove. Cas stumbled back, holding his hand to his chest. Dean pushed himself off of the floor and threw his fist through the air, smashing it across Castiel's cheekbone. They both fell on the tiles with the force of Dean's punch.

"Lovers spat?" An all too British voice asked from behind them. Castiel looked up at Crowley as he spit a mouthful of blood out to the white floor. The gash on his cheek would probably need stitches.

"How the hell do you keep getting in here?" Dean yelled, spitting out his own mouthful of blood.

"Details love. I've come'a ringin'." Both Dean and Cas shared a confused look before turning back to Crowley. "I've got a lead on Abaddon." He said, rolling his eyes.

"Not now Crowley. Now's not really a good time."

"I'm sorry, did I ask you if now was a good time? Please, let me rearrange my life to fit the needs of the Winchesters. I don't care if now is a good time or not, now is all we have!" Dean stood and positioned himself an inch from Crowley's face in one stride and one stride alone.

"My brother is in there fucking dying you ass! Now. Is not. A good. Fucking time. Crowley!" He only raised one eyebrow at the sudden explosion from Dean.

"And I should care because?"

"You seem to forget, we're doing this for you. We don't have to go after her."

"Don't act like you don't want this as much I as I do, squirrel. I heard what you and moose said before. 'I'd rather have him on our side than her'? Something along those lines right?" Dean's eyes searched his face before backing away.

"Fuck off Crowley."

"Knew you'd see it my way. Here are her coordinates. Carry forth my little soldier. Make me proud." In a blink of an eye Crowley was gone, a small piece of paper left behind in the palm of Dean's hand. He opened it gingerly, reading the contents inside. Dean groaned loudly, rubbing the back of his neck with his shaking hands.

"Son of a bitch." Cas heard him mumble. He stood up, wiping the stray blood off his cheek. He moved passed Dean without another word or a look back, making his way towards Sam. Dean followed behind him silently.

"Kev!" He yelled. Kevin came out from his room in a hurry.

"Yah Dean, what's up?" He looked between Cas' cheek and Dean's lip. "What happened to you two?"

"Doesn't matter. I need you to watch over Sam for a few days. Make sure he takes his meds, eats, all that. Can you?" Kevin glanced from Dean to Cas, then down to Sam, then back up to Dean. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. With one more look down at Sam he shut his mouth forcefully.

"Yah, sure Dean…sure—"

"Good. Thanks Kev." He turned to face Cas with unsettling eyes. "We're leaving in five minutes. Get your shit together and meet me at the car."

….

Crowley's directions said Abandon would be in Greene, Iowa. Even with Dean behind the wheels the drive would put them at least a day behind her. To be honest, the whole situation didn't feel right. He never trusted Crowley. He never met Abandon, only heard what had happened from Dean and Sam. For all Cas knew, they could be working together. He wouldn't put it past Crowley to have something up his sleeve after they took out the Knight. Dean didn't seem to worry much. He had the Angel blades', Ruby's knife, and the Colt; he said something was bound to work against her. Still, Castiel would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous.

The drive was quiet, besides the mix of Classic Rock tapes Dean always seemed to have going. They stopped for the night along the highway; to save money and time. They ate in the car from different dinners. And only stopped if they needed gas or to use the bathroom. Castiel didn't try to talk to Dean. Dean didn't try to talk to Cas. The silence hung over them, breaking down anything they managed to rebuild over the past few months. Castiel felt helpless when it came to trying to get through to Dean. He knew him better than anyone else, he liked to think, but yet, at that moment he didn't have the slightest idea what was going on in Dean's mind. His face was clouded from any and all emotions. The only sign he got about what Dean was thinking was how hard he was holding on to the steering wheel. His knuckles were changing white with his death grip. His eyes were fixed solely on the darkened road ahead.

Castiel fixed his own gaze out the window and on to the passing pavement. From the sky, small puffs of white began to float down in clouds, melting as soon as they touched the heat of the Impala. A smile spread across Cas' face as he watched the snow speed up.

"It's snowing." He whispered to himself. Over the sound of the music and the roar of the engine he didn't expect Dean to actually hear him.

"Yah, it is." Cas turned to look at him, just to see his own sideways glance towards Cas.

"I've always loved the snow." The faster the car went the faster the snow seemed to come down. It was nearly white around them now; Dean's windshield wipers moving as fast as the car would let them.

"Me too. I remember this one Christmas—I had to be ten or eleven, we were at this motel while Dad was out on a hunt. We were supposed to stay in the room till he got back, but Sam kept looking out the window, kept wining like the bitch he is about how much he wanted to go out and play in it. It was the first snow we'd actually seen in years," Dean chuckled as he remembered. "So, I finally had enough with the wining and I just took him out in it. We didn't have any winter clothes, so we couldn't stay out long. But just seeing the smile on Sammy's face for those few minutes; it was worth the ass kicking I got when Dad came home." Dean bit his bottom lip as his grip on the wheel became even tighter. Against his better judgment, Cas moved his hand from his own lap to place it gently across Dean's knee. He felt the muscles in Dean's leg stiffen at the touch, but he didn't move away. Cas gave him a squeeze of reassurance.

"He's going to be fine Dean. It's like any other sickness; it's just got to run its course. You saw how he got better before. He'll be okay." Dean nodded slightly.

"I hope you're right Cas. Fuck, I hope you're right."

….

A day after they arrived in Greene the boys found her. As the new 'Queen of Hell' Abaddon kept tight security around her at all times.

Cas crouched down behind a dumpster, looking ahead at Dean leaning against a wall. They both were fully loaded with everything they needed. Even though the idea sent chills down his spine, Dean had melted down two Angel blades to form into bullets. It was wrong on so many level's to Cas, but it worked, and that's all that mattered at the moment. They both kept pistols loaded with the Angel bullets tucked in the gun strap around their legs, along with another gun loaded with salt rounds, an actual Angel blade stored in the band of their pants, Holy water flasks in their pockets, the Colt tucked away in Cas' jacket, and Ruby's knife tucked somewhere on Dean.

Dean motioned for Cas to move forward. He grabbed the Angel gun from his pants, tucking it close to his body, and moved from around the dumpster to maneuver himself along the wall closest to the back door. From where he stood Cas saw three demon's patrolling the outside of the abandoned factory. Dean was beside him in an instant.

"There has to be more inside." He mumbled close to Cas' ear. One of the demons, a short, fat balding man, was making his way towards the boys. "I'm going to move around to the others. Get fatty. Meet you inside." Cas nodded and Dean was off. He held his breath as the demon came around the corner just to stop when he saw Cas. Grabbing at the Angel blade in his jacket, the fat demon grabbed at his neck, just to get sliced with the blade. Cas covered his mouth with one hand while pushing the blade into his neck with the other. The body fell to the floor with a soft thud. Castiel turned the corner to see the other two demons were on the floor dead. Dean was already at the door, waving Cas over.

Dean picked the lock on the rusted door with ease and they let themselves in; guns at the ready. The hallways were deserted; not a single demon in sight. The sounds of their footsteps echoed off the stone walls as they lurked down to another room. Dean pushed them up against the wall right as Cas was about to turn the corner. Sounds of inaudible conversations sounded from inside the room. Dean poked his head around the corner then instantly drew back.

"Six." He mouthed. He lifted three of his fingers, pointed them at Cas then back at himself. Cas nodded, showing he understood. Shoving the Angel blade up the sleeve of his jacket, and pulling the gun closer to his side, Cas eased himself to the other wall without being noticed. Dean caught his eyes right before they were about to enter. "Be careful." He mouthed again. _You too_, he thought. Dean seemed to know what he was thinking and just nodded his head.

Together they barged into the room, shocking all six of the black eyed sons of bitches.

"Well, well, well, can't say I'm shocked to see you two here. Hey Dean, where's your brother? Replaced him with a fallen Angel have we?" A tall blonde man laughed, coming to stand in front of the rest of the demons.

"Shut up bitch." Dean hissed, launching himself at the taller demon. Cas ran to the side of the room, as though he was trying to leave, attracting three of the demons; a short skinny blonde girl, a child that couldn't be more than ten, and an older man around Castiel's size. The rest of the demons stayed on Dean. From the look of things, Dean was handling his own pretty well. Before Cas could raise his gun, the child lifted her hand, sending Cas onto the other side of the wall; the gun lost somewhere underneath him. His ribs cracked on impact, sending a sharp pain through his spine.

"What's wrong Cassie? Why don't you use some of your Angel mojo on me now, huh?" She teased, lifting him again. He fell to the floor in a loud crash. Ignoring the pain in his back, Castiel stood and leaped to the side, towards his Angel gun. Before the demon could swing him somewhere else, Cas lifted the gun in her direction and pulled the trigger. One demon down two more to go. The other two looked down at her fallen body in shock. The other female ran towards him, blocking the two shots he fired in her direction. The male demon came up behind him just as the blonde pulled him up by his shirt, knocking the gun out of his hand. The guy, held his head back, mouth open.

"I'm really going to enjoy picking apart your brain, love." She wiggled her brows in interest as she opened her own mouth. Cas slid the Angel blade from out of his jacket, colliding it with her temple. She dropped Castiel's shirt as her body fell back to the floor. The last demon still held on to his jaw, crushing his fingers into the sides of his head. Castiel tried not to scream out in pain, but failed miserably. Cas managed to look over in Dean's direction just to see two of his demons were dead already, the third straddling Dean's hips, her small hands wrapped expertly around his neck. His hand was outreached towards his gun that had been knocked to the side while the other one pushed at the demons face. Cas tried to move forward towards Dean, but the hold his own demon had on his head, digging deeper into his temple kept him in place. Blood started to flow down his cheeks. Cas reached into his pocket the best he could and retrieved the flask. Somehow me managed to undue the lid and tilt it back onto the demons face. He stumble, dropping his grip on Castiel's head, and screamed in pain. Cas was disoriented at first, but finally managed to get his balance to find the gun just inches from where he stood. His demon was pulling Cas up by his neck in a second, trying to knock the gun from his hands. He lifted it up over the demons shoulder and pulled the trigger. Castiel wasn't like Dean or Sam. He didn't know how to shoot a gun as well as they did. Sure he'd been a soldier of Heaven for a few millenniums, and he wasn't completely useless when it came to them, but trying to hit a target a few yards away while it moved, and not hit someone underneath it seemed impossible. The bullet went straight through the air, slicing through the demons shoulder. It fell off of Dean, screeching in pain. Dean lay their coughing, staring at Cas in horror as his own demon began to choke him. Before he knew it, Castiel was being dropped to the floor as the elderly man fell on top of him, an Angel blade sticking out of his back. A few gun shots rang through the air before Cas could push the dead body off of him. All six demons were on the floor now. Dean jogged over to Cas and helped him up into a standing position; his ribs burned in the process.

"Nice work Cas. For a second I thought you were going to shoot me." He breathed out, leaning against the wall.

"For a second I thought I was going to shoot you." Dean let out a pained laugh.

"Well, I'm hella' glad you didn't." With a painful slap on the back Dean went over to where he had been struggling to pick up his weapons. Cas leaned down to retrieve the Angel blade from the already decaying body.

"Wow, that was quite the show you boys put on."

"Abaddon." Dean stated. She was wearing a tall brunette. At first glance she looked familiar. Her vessel looked similar to Meg when they first met.

"Dean. Good to see you again darling. And you, you must be Castiel. Angel of the Lord, am I right?" She moved gracefully over to him, circles him once before walking away. "My mistake. Human is more like it. Might I say, before we get this show on the road, thank you. You did marvelous darling. The way you made every Angel fall from Heaven, Oscar worthy, really. Amazing." She purred, stepping closer to Dean. "You know Dean, I have a bone to pick with your brother. Normally I'm not one to get attached to things, but I happened to like that girl I was wearing. Now I'm stuck with this slut. It's quite sad actually."

"You gonna talk all day?" Dean asked. Movement caught Castiel's eye. He looked down at Dean's hands as they moved behind his back, one finger pointed at Cas. Castiel back up against the wall as Abaddon circled Dean. Castiel slowly bent down while her back was towards him and picked up the Angel gun. He lifted it and pulled the trigger in one fluid motion. The bullet went straight through her head, sending her stumbling back a few inches.

"Okay, ow. What is that thing?" She laughed, flinging the gun out of his hand. Cas' eyes met Dean's with fear. "Nice try though." She motioned her hand towards Cas. His body moved on his own and in a blink of an eye she had her hand wrapped around his throat, clutching the life out of him. Castiel pulled the Colt out of his jacket, pointed it up, and pulled the trigger. Her head fell back as the bullet went flying into her skull. "Seriously? That hurts." She hissed, squeezing tighter on his neck. Dean came around behind her, slicing through her arm with an Angel blade. Castiel, along with Abaddon's hand, fell to the ground. She went to lunge after Dean, but her feet wouldn't move.

"Should have learned your lesson bitch." Dean snapped. Abaddon's face went blank, her mouth hung open as she looked between him and Cas. She went to speak but Dean cut her off. "Ain't gettin' out of it this time either. I'll make damn sure of that." He turned his attention to Castiel. "Cas, bring the boxes in."

….

They were back at the motel room shortly after scattering the boxes full of Abaddon in different part of the woods. Dean was in the bathroom complaining about how sore he was while Castiel stuffed his face in the weird smelling pillow. His ribs were burning with pain, his head throbbed against his skull, and his cheek still felt like it was pouring blood even though he knew it wasn't. Every inch of his body hurt like hell. He wished he could heal himself again; since he was unable to even move without hissing. Dean felt the same way. From the complaining Cas could tell his throat was hurting, his head was also hurting, and his shoulder had been snapped out of place; which Cas had to help with.

He rolled over to his back and stared at the rain stained ceiling. The shower cut off in the bathroom. Cas listened as Dean moved around in the other room. After a few minutes Dean came out smelling like mint and cheap motel soap, a cloud of steam following behind. His boxers came down just above his hipbones, exposing the small trail of hair that lined his lower stomach. Cas fixed his gaze on the gentle way Dean's muscles moved whenever he stretched his hands over his head. Small droplets of water ran down his chest just to soak into the fabric of his boxers. Dean turned towards him, smiling seductively when he saw Cas watching him. For a second Cas stopped breathing. Along his torso cuts and bruises covered his skin. A long pink gash ran up his arm stopping just below the handprint. Below Dean's right eye a purple shadow started to form. Cas sat up in a hurry to brush his fingers over the wound on his arm. He trailed the line all the way up to the pink skin. He could feel Dean's eyes on him as he outlines every one of the bruises, every single cut; every single imperfection he noticed on him. Dean's hands came up to cup Castiel's face in his hands, rubbing his thumb over the laceration he had caused. Cas leaned in to the touch. As if he did something wrong Dean snatched his hand away from under Castiel and fell beside him on the bed. Cas watched him as he covered his eyes with his hands and began to take deep breaths.

"What are we doing Cas?" He huffed out a big breath of air that turned into a loud groan.

"Sitting on a bed in a rat infested motel?" He suggested. Dean looked under his arm with a hint of a smile on his otherwise serious face.

"No shit Sherlock." Dean bit at his bottom lip, hissing when his tongue touched the cut Cas had caused." I mean it Cas, what are we doing? What is," He motioned between them. "this?" Cas bit at his own bottom lip nervously.

"Why does it have to be anything, Dean? Why can't it just be what it is?" Dean let out another half snort half groan.

"Yah, whatever. Just forget I brought it up." Dean's head fell back on the pillow, this time turning his body to the side, away from Cas.

"Okay Dean—" He said under his breath.

After all, when had he ever said no to Dean?

….

It was two months after they found Abaddon; two days into the new year. Sam's body was healing again, for how long this time was anybody's guess. Kevin still hadn't made any progress on the Angel tablet. As usual Castiel stayed in the bunker, rotating between his closet and a chair in the main room with a bottle of Jack or Jim in his hands and a book from the shelves spread out in front of him. Dean had actually let up some. Even though they hadn't brought up the night in his room, or the conversation at the motel in Greene, they were talking again. Sure it wasn't what it had been before, but it was a start. Castiel hadn't kept his promise though. After the nightmares had started up he began to take the pill again. After a few weeks even those didn't work anymore; he needed something stronger. A hunter friend of Dean's had referred Cas to one of his friends that said they had something for him, that could help with anything that ailed him. Of course he didn't tell Dean nor Sam; Kevin caught him sneaking back into the bunker one night after getting what he needed, but he shrugged it off as a booze run—Kevin seemed to be satisfied with the answer.

The new medication he was on did wonders to him. At first the friend had to show him what to do with the powder, but after two hits, he was a pro. It wasn't like anything he'd ever experienced before, Heavenly or otherwise. Whenever he got a hit his brain became blank, only a feeling, similar to fire, but at the same time ice, coursed through his veins, for hours upon end till it washed away, leaving Cas able to sleep without the worry of nightmares.

His first few hits were free, the hunter said something about any friend of Dean's was a friend of his, but after his second batch was gone he would have to start buying them; cash only. He had no money, and the Winchesters only survived on their fake credit cards, leaving Cas' only option to start playing poker, a skill Dean taught him, and hustling pool, another skill Sam had taught him once he started to feel active again. To be honest, he wasn't that bad at either one, although he preferred pool over the gambling; he tended to make more money that way anyhow.

Which was what lead Castiel to be leaning against a local bar's wall, pool stick in hand, angry bearded guy towering over him, demanding his money. Cas shifted the toothpick in his mouth to the other side, rolling his eyes and waving a hand in front of his face. It only seemed to piss the guy off even more.

"Fine. All or nothing. See if you can win it back." Castiel placed the six hundred dollars on the side of the pool table, pulling it out of the man's reach when he went to grab it.

"Fine. Rack 'em." Cas gave a sly smile before taking a swing of his whiskey. The game went by faster than expected. The man owed him six hundred more dollars by the time they finished, but he wasn't going to press his luck. The poor bastard was shitfaced like there was no tomorrow, and still pissed as hell that he didn't get his money back. Cas went over to the bar, placing his empty glass in front of the bartender. She eyed it then moved up Castiel's body before settling aggressively on his eyes.

"'Nother one baby?"

"If you don't mind." He winked at her as she turned around to fulfill his order. His eyes traveled down the tight leather of her jacket before coming in contact around her ass. In his pocket, the phone the Winchesters had given him started to vibrate before stopping and then picking up again. This kept on going up until the chick placed his glass in front of him. She leaned in close to his ear, her lips brushing up against them as she spoke.

"I get off at two. In case you're interested." She purred. His phone picked up again. Pulling out the small silver cell, Kailey's name popped up on the screen before turning black, just to have her call again. The longer he waited to more the bartender seemed like a better idea. Just as Castiel was about to turn and grab his fresh glass of whiskey his opponent from earlier charged up beside him, slamming his side into the bar.

"Watch where you're going faggot."

"Bruce, knock it off." Even though the man towered over him, Cas wasn't one to back away from a fight. He pushed himself into the man's personal space, eyeing him down with a cocky smile.

"Yah Bruce, knock it off." He spat into the mountain's face. Before things heated further, Castiel was being pushed outside by unknown arms. He turned around to yell at whoever it was but stopped in mid-sentence when he saw Dean glaring at him. His mouth became dry as he tried to come up with some excuse as to why he was picking fights with random guys at some bar, known for violent fights, even a death or two. They walked silently into the alley adjacent the building they had just come from. The only means of light came from the one street lamp that barely made walls notable in the dark. Before he could process what was happening Dean had him pinned up against the side of one of the walls, his face merely inches from Cas'. He could feel Dean's breath hot against his face. Anger raged in his eyes.

"What the fuck is going on with you?" He yelled, not caring that they turned the head of some patrons that had just left the bar.

"I'll need you to be more specific Dean." He purred close to Dean's ear, switching his weight to where he now had Dean pinned up against the wall.

"This, you, everything Castiel! This is not you!" Before, his attitude was relaxed, not really caring about the situation or rage Dean showed towards him; but just as fast his mood switched. His face became hard, serious, and just as enraged as Dean was. "Drugs Cas? Really? Yah, don't act so surprised, I found the coke in your pants a few weeks ago. Fuck Cas. You said you would stop."

"What the fuck does it matter Dean? What the hell do you mean this isn't me? Who are you to proclaim who I am and who I am not? For once I'm not this power crazed bastard, or a useless idiot who just 'watches the bees.'" He mocked his own tone from a few years ago. "Did it ever occur to you that this is who I would have been, had I not been an Angel in the first place? This is me Dean." Dean shifted his weight over, pinning Cas back underneath him. Castiel wince as the back of his head hit hard against the brick.

"No. This is not you Cas. You're not a power crazed bastard, or a useless idiot. And you're not some drug addicted prick either." Cas followed the pattern, pinning Dean back against the wall.

"Then who am I?" Dean stayed speechless as Cas let go of his shirt, backing away calmly.

"_'People often say that this or that person has not yet found himself. But the self is not something one finds, it is something one creates.'_" Dean searched Castiel's face, inching his body closer to him. "Truth is Cas, I don't fucking know. But who really does? Stop feeling sorry for yourself man and get on your God damned life." By now Dean was right on top of Cas. "Cas, you can't keep blaming yourself. It's not going to get you anywhere either. You have to forgive yourself and let it the fuck go. Just move on Castiel. Just move o—" Castiel's lips were on Dean's. He pushed him into the cold wall in such force he heard a moan escape Dean's lips from pain, surprise, pleasure, he didn't know. Dean pushed into him in return. It was wet, bruising, messy, hot, needing. His hands were everywhere. They pulled their way through Dean's hair, pushing his head back so he could separate and bite at the nap of his neck. Dean's hands pulled Castiel's hips towards his own by the belt loops, trying to get some friction. Cas pushed his knee in between Dean's legs so he would have something to rub against as he continued to suck at his skin, leaving wet spots along his collar bone that instantly turned red. He crushed his lips back to Deans, sucking his tongue into Cas' mouth. His hands moved down Dean's body, brushing over the front of Dean's pants.

"Fuck Cas—" He groaned into the crook of Cas' neck. Castiel did away with Dean's pants fairly quickly. His cock was leaking precome as it bobbed against Cas' knee. He took it in his hand, giving it a hard squeeze. Dean's hips bucked up to get Castiel to move. He placed his hands on Dean's hipbones, most likely leaving bruises in the process to keep him still. With one more painful kiss, Castiel traveled down Dean's body, not hesitating for a second before taking him fully in his mouth. Another round of 'fucks' and 'Jesus Cas'' slipped out into the night air along with obscene grunts and moans. Castiel ran his tongue up the side of Dean's cock, taking only the head in before swallowing him down again. He hollowed out his cheeks as Dean thrust up into his mouth. His dick hit the back of Castiel's throat, making him choke a little. Grabbing the base of Dean's cock, Cas sucked like his life depended on it, meeting his thrusts with his hands every time. With a wet pop, Castiel removed his mouth, but continued to jerk Dean's cock until he was about to come. Cas looked up at Dean as he pushed him over the edge, come splattering across his hands in quick spurts. Dean grabbed onto the back of Cas' head as he licked off the come, swallowing as much as he could.

It seemed to take a while for Dean to come back down after his orgasm. Castiel had to help him stuff himself back into his pants, since he was unable to even move. But Cas didn't mind.

That night he didn't go back to his closet. Instead he lay sprawled out across Dean's bed, watching as Dean's eyes fluttered quickly behind his closed eyelids. Memories of their years together ran through his head in no particular order.

_for·give·ness _

_/fərˈgivnis/_

_Noun_

_The action or process of forgiving or being forgiven._

_Matthew 6:14-15_

_For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins._

_1 John 1:9_

_If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness._

Where did someone look to ask for forgiveness? Where did a once Angel look for forgiveness? Was there even someone out there to listen to his pray for forgiveness?

_'Others will learn to forgive, they will learn to move on. You need to do the same. You can't let it stay with you for the rest of your life, Castiel. It will kill you if you do.'_

He hadn't kept his promise. He never tried. Castiel never believed he was righteous enough to be forgiven, so he never tried. His sins were too great; from all the years of crap he put the Winchesters through, all the crap he put Heaven through—how could he be forgiven for that? How could he forgive himself?

And then now. He was sinning in was he never thought he would. He was ingesting different forms of drugs from God only knows where against his better judgment. He was drinking himself unconscious every night.

Sure at one time he told Dean he hadn't wanted to die, but it was just another one of his lies.

This was killing him in the same was a gun would have, only slower, and a lot more painful for the people around him; that only now did he realize that actually loved and cared for him.

As Castiel lay on the bed with Dean asleep beside him, Sam asleep just down the hall, and Kevin across the bunker, Cas felt something spark inside him. Even though they hadn't come out and said it in so many words, their actions showed they forgave him. They didn't at first, but with time. He felt himself give into the feeling, letting it wash over him. He felt as though he was finally home again.

Even though he didn't think he deserved it—

Even though he didn't know where to begin to look for it—

Even though he didn't know if he would actually be able to carry through with it—

Castiel gave in.

He forgave himself—for everything that seemed fit.

He only had Heaven's best interest in mind when he let Sam out of the panic room.

He only had best intentions in his heart when stealing the souls from Purgatory.

He wasn't himself when he broke Sam's wall.

He didn't mean to get addicted to the power the souls gave him.

He didn't mean to let the Leviathans out.

It wasn't his fault he was being controlled by Naomi.

It wasn't his fault Heaven fell.

He wasn't making excuses. Castiel knew he messed up in more ways than he could count. If he had only said something to Dean, or to Sam, sooner, on any of his mistakes they could have been easily avoided. If he would have just asked for help sooner—

But it was the past. Nothing he did now would change that; every mistake he made was in the past and they would always stay that way. The only thing he could do now was move on. If everyone else had moved on, why shouldn't he be allowed?

Castiel looked over at Dean one more time, a familiar smile spreading across his face.

He would try.

The outcome was a mystery; who really knew if it would work or not, but the least he could do is keep his promise, and try to forgive himself.

_Epilogue_

The wait for a slice of pie and a cup of coffee was beyond ridiculous. It felt like they had been in the diner for hours instead of minutes. He guessed it had to do with the fact that it was pretty crowded with the lunch rush just starting and how it was nearly 95 degrees in the room without so much as a fan to get some circulation in there. Dean was watching him fidget on his side of the booth with a shit-eating grin stuck on his face. Every time Castiel looked over at him he wanted to punch that look right off of him. His annoying grumbles only made Dean laugh louder. Cas scrunched up his face in annoyance as the table beside them got their order.

"Cas, calm down man. Patience is a virtue."

"I'm about five seconds away from murdering you." He snapped under his breath. Dean only rolled his eyes before turning back to the laptop that sat on the table. Cas didn't know, or care, what he was looking up. After two more painful minutes the waiter came by holding Dean's plate of cherry pie and Cas' mug of coffee.

"See, there you go grumpy. Wasn't so bad." Dean chimed, grabbing his fork to start digging into the pie. They both looked up at the waiter who hadn't left the table yet. He was staring at Castiel with a little confusion, and somewhere deep in his eyes he seemed almost sad. "You okay man?" Dean asked through a mouthful of pie. The waiter, Feliex, didn't pay Dean any attention, only kept his gaze focused on Castiel. From the corner of his eyes he noticed Dean starting to squirm in his seat. It made Cas chuckle.

"Can I help you?" He asked. Felix studied him for a little longer before going wide eyed.

"Castiel." Cas' heart skipped a beat. "You're Castiel right?"

"Maybe, who wants to kno—wait—you're the guy from the bus station. Wait, are you—ar—" Felix was already nodding his head.

"My name is really Tariel. I don't think we ever really met in Heaven, but I've heard stories about you."

"Wait, I'm confused. You're an Angel?" Dean slid the empty plate across the table and leaned back against the back of the booth.

"Was." He corrected. "But before, yes." He turned back to Castiel, uninterested in Dean entirely.

"Have you met up with others?" Castiel asked in a rush of curiosity. He wanted to know how the others were doing. He had to know nothing bad happened to them. Even though he had hardly known any of them, they were still family. He still cared for them and their safety. Not to mention, Castiel needed to know if any of them had gotten possessed. If they had, there wasn't much he could do, but it would help to know.

"I've seen some over the past few months, others I could have easily mistaken as a human. Castiel, I want to thank you." The words took him by surprise completely. "If it weren't for you, we wouldn't have had the courage to disobey; we wouldn't be here if it weren't for you." Castiel avoided eye contact with his brother, turning back to look at Dean. He was watching Castiel closely with a familiar look plastered over his face. Dean turned up the corners of his mouth in a way Cas had grown to love. Underneath the table, one of Dean's legs rubbed up against him as he saw Dean's head give a small nod of encouragement.

"I know. I'm so sorry brother. I—"The other Angel cut him off before he could say anything more.

"You have nothing to be sorry for Castiel. I, along with the others I have seen, want to thank you for what you did. We have lives here now. I have this job, I have someone I can finally love, like you have the Winchester here. We can feel now. We can express emotion. We have free will Castiel. Because of you." Tears were forming in his brother's eyes as a smile spread across his face. A woman's voice carried out from the kitchen, calling for Felix. "I have to get back to work, but next cup is on the house. The pie too." He motioned towards Dean's empty plate. Castiel watched with his mouth half open after Felix as he went back behind the swinging doors.

"I guess breaking Heaven had its perks after all." Dean quipped. "Close your mouth, you're gonna attract flies."

"They're—grateful…Dean—"

"Yah, yah, Angel of the year. Hey, call him back over. I want my pie."


End file.
